Blep
by For the Kingdom
Summary: After ingesting an unknown chemical compound that seemed to give unnatural life to the animatronics, William begins transforming nightly against his will into a large, feral jackrabbit, putting not only himself but his entire family in danger. Unfortunately, as always, it falls to Henry to keep everyone safe. An AU based off of Rebellovesrobots' incredible were!trap AU.
1. The Day Before

A/N: This story is an AU of an AU: my imaginings based on the incredibly intriguing concept by Rebellovesrobots on Tumbler of William Afton turning into a were-rabbit.

In this version, William and Henry are living in a blended family and in the same house. William's wife left him with the three kids, and Henry and his wife split when Sammy died. Charlie chose to stay with her father. William hasn't killed any children (yet? He's got it in him, but it hasn't come out).

I hope you enjoy and thanks to Rebel for the awesome AU!

Note: If you read my last fic, this is a completely different imagining of William and Henry.

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1\. The Day Before

On warm, slow June afternoons at Fazbear's, it was nearly impossible to get William to do any work.

He didn't help Henry iron the wrinkles out of Foxy's walk cycle or jot down song lists or song ideas for future stage shows. If Henry made him sit in the chair at his desk like the overgrown toddler he was, William spent the day making paper crafts or staring at him over the back of his chair. If Henry let him roam free, he went to the costume room behind the stage, put on the terrifying fleece and latex rabbit suit he had made for himself and wandered the shadowy halls like a cryptid.

Just when Henry had gotten into the groove of his latest project and accepted that he'd be working alone that day, William appeared in the doorway to their office wearing the rabbit costume.

"Heya, Henry!" he said in the goofy voice he used when wearing that abomination, interrupting an experiment that Henry probably should have been performing at home in the lab rather than at the restaurant. He held a plate of pizza in each hand and cocked his head to the side, exaggerating the suit's unsettling smile. "Come take a break with me!"

Henry pulled the petri dish of glowing liquid closer for safety. "We shouldn't be touching this substance with our bare hands, much less be eating next to it."

William tossed the plates onto Henry's desk with a sigh and took off his sweaty mask. "You're never any fun," he said. He sat on the edge of the desk and Henry irritably moved his tools out of the way. William took a bite of his own pizza, not bothering to take off his gloves. "I don't know why you're still looking at that stuff," he continued. "It's just sludge that oozed out of Bonnie. Who cares if it's glowing? I'd bet my life it's nothing but oil and battery acid."

Henry scooted the plate away from the petri dish. "It changed the speaking patterns of every animatronic it came into contact with," he protested.

"We can do that without the magic muck, Dr. Frankenstein." William poked at the dish and a bit of it sloshed over the side onto his glove. "Dammit—"

"Careful!" Henry put the lid on the dish so they wouldn't lose any more of the sample to William's boredom. "Would you please get this pizza and yourself off my desk? I'm trying to work."

"Whatever you say." William slid to his feet and gathered the plates. "I try to do something nice—"

"And after you wash that glove, I'd love it if you'd put together the set list like you promised."

"Fine—"

"And for the love of god, don't eat that pizza. It's contaminated."

"I'm not an idiot, Henry, believe it or not." William took the plates out of the room, muttering about how if he had wanted to work with his mother, he would have stayed in England.

Henry examined the petri dish to make sure it hadn't been damaged. There was a greasy smear on one side of the plastic, but otherwise it looked undisturbed. The glowing substance had come from the Bonnie animatronic, just as William had said, though they still didn't know what it was or what had caused it. One day, during a stage show, Bonnie had been behaving strangely and then, from the eyes, ears, and mouth had dripped the odd liquid. It was thick and slimy like algae and it stained anything it came into contact with. By the time Henry had noticed the dripping suit and taken it offstage, it had leaked a shallow puddle that had seeped into the faux fur feet of Freddy and Chica.

William had spent the rest of the afternoon in the back room, crouched on the floor with his sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the suit with turpentine, trying to get the slime out of the fur. As he did, Henry took a few samples from the stage and mopped up the rest. William said that, when he opened up the suit, he couldn't find the source of the leak. He said he believed it was some kind of electrical discharge from the battery or wiring mixed with oil from the joints. Henry believed him until the next day when the animatronics began to sing off script.

Getting the performance rights to music was difficult and expensive, so the stage animatronics had a severely limited number of songs programmed into them. Most were playful ditties written and recorded by Henry and Will to save money, but they also had a couple of popular tunes that they had splurged on such as "Yankee Doodle" and "Happy Birthday"—"Happy Birthday" in particular had cost a fortune. William was better with logistics and contracts, so Henry had left the purchasing and negotiations to him.

It was surprising, then, when Freddy began singing a song up on stage that they hadn't purchased or written and more surprising still was that Chica sang backup vocals and Bonnie played the right chords on his guitar. Henry thought at first that William had secretly programmed them with a new song but when he turned to thank him, William was staring up at the stage in shock, fear even. Something else had caused them to make up their own song and Henry couldn't shake the idea that the substance was to blame. And if it could do something that unbelievable, Henry wondered what else it could do.

After another hour, William returned to the office dressed back into his short-sleeve button up shirt and slim fit jeans, ready to go home. He leaned exasperatedly in the doorway as though Henry was the one keeping them.

"How much longer?" William asked, crossing his arms.

Henry continued writing his notes without looking up. "If you'd make the set lists, we could go home quicker."

William stayed in the doorway for another long moment, as though he expected Henry might relent and go home early. In fact, if they hadn't carpooled to work, William probably would have gone home hours ago, but even Will wasn't heartless enough to leave Henry stranded at Freddy's. And for all William's melodramatic impatience, he cared about the restaurant just as much as Henry.

With a heavy sigh, William pushed up from the doorframe and dragged himself to his desk. He wiped his mouth as he walked by.

"You didn't eat that pizza, did you?" Henry asked. Seriously, sometimes he felt like William was one of his children.

William grumbled a "no" in reply. He sat down on his squeaky desk chair, the one they had gotten for free on the side of the road, and began unhappily scribbling out the set lists for the week.

Henry decided to let it go. He removed his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose, then got back to work. He thought about buying William a cold beer at a gas station on the way home as a thank you for helping, but William hadn't done much and he really wasn't supposed to be drinking anyway. Henry had done almost all the work that day so maybe he'd buy one for himself, instead.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Henry and William locked up and went home. William didn't talk at all, which was unusual. He just stared out the passenger window with his long legs curled up on the seat, his knees resting against the dashboard. Maybe he was angry or tired or ill; he did look a little green around the gills but that might have just been the lighting. They didn't stop for a beer, but they did grab supplies for spaghetti: the easiest and least expensive dinner to make for a household of six.

Elizabeth burst through the door and onto the porch in her school t-shirt and pajama bottoms to welcome them home and inform them, before they heard differently, that there was a food coloring stain on the carpet, but it wasn't her fault, it was Michael's.

"Why the hell wasn't he doing that in the kitchen?" William demanded, leaning heavily on the painted white support beam. He mopped the sweat from his forehead with his arm, too tired, hungry, or sick, to see through Elizabeth's antics.

But it wasn't a battle Henry was willing to fight, so he hiked the bag of groceries higher on his hip and guided both Aftons inside, talking about spaghetti and asking Elizabeth how school was.

"It was okay," she answered. She followed Henry into the kitchen while Will flopped face down on the couch. "But you need to make Charlie play kickball with me."

Henry chuckled to himself as he set a pot of water on the stovetop to boil. When he looked over his shoulder to answer, Elizabeth had gone into the living room to pester William. She loved her father more than anyone loved him in the whole world; more than the wife who had left him, more than Mike, a teenager with enough to worry about at school without having to worry about his erratic father, or Nicholas, too young yet to know anything except that his father was loud and sometimes angry; Elizabeth loved him even more than Henry did and her love was bottomless, boundless. And Henry worried that, if Will wasn't careful, he was going to lose it.

"What, Lizzie? What?" William snapped into the pillow.

"I said, what runs but never walks and burps but never talks?" she demanded, the couch squeaking under her pink socks as she jumped, playing hopscotch around her father's legs.

"It's 'mouth,' Lizzie," William whined like it was painful to say. "'mouth but never talks.' And then something about a bed."

"No!" Elizabeth stomped on the cushion. "Answer the riddle, Daddy. What is it?"

William sighed into the armrest. "I don't know," he complained. "I don't remember."

Henry leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, watching the fiasco. He watched William sinking defeatedly into the couch and Elizabeth, the heir of all his manic energy, holding onto the worn back cushions and hopping around his legs in an elaborate pattern. One foot forward, then two in between, then one back close to the edge. It was only a matter of time before she stepped on one of his legs.

"Can I take a guess?" Henry asked.

"No," Elizabeth said again.

"Henry," William moaned, "take her with you please."

Henry thought about protesting, but William really didn't look well. Part of this was probably an act, the result of a long and excruciatingly boring day according to William, but some of it might not be, and if William had caught some kind of flu, it was best for Elizabeth to keep her distance.

"Liz," said Henry, "Can you go up and tell everyone dinner's almost ready?"

Elizabeth kept bouncing. "Not until Daddy answers my riddle."

"What if he thinks about it and tells you after dinner?" asked Henry. "Would that be all right?"

Elizabeth stopped bouncing and looked down at William. She got solemnly off the couch and walked dejectedly to the stairs. "Fine," she said as she passed.

When Henry was sure she had gone upstairs, when he started hearing her opening doors and getting yelled at because doesn't she know how to knock, Henry approached the couch.

"Want me to get you some cold medicine?" Henry asked quietly so the kids wouldn't hear.

William lifted his head from the couch, the imprint of the fabric red on his cheek. He looked up at Henry but his eyes had trouble focusing and he turned his head sideways hoping to get a better view.

"7-Up?" he asked.

"I'll check the fridge, but I don't think we have any," replied Henry.

William swore under his breath and let his face flatten the arm of the couch once again. "Never mind then," he said almost inaudibly. He began to shiver.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

"No."

"Do you want a blanket?"

"Just turn the lights off," William mumbled in reply.

Henry switched off the lamp and went back into the kitchen to check the pasta. William was asleep by the time he poured it into the strainer and not even the stampede of hungry kids tumbling down the stairs woke him up.

The kids, William's three and Henry's daughter, ate fast and Henry heard all about what had happened during school. The younger ones told him in great detail what they had had for lunch and the funny things that had happened in class and the crazy things that had happened during recess and what they were going to do during summer vacation, but Mike and Charlie, high schoolers now and interested in bands and boys and girls and what was and wasn't embarrassing, only gave short, vague replies in response to direct questions from Henry.

Henry didn't mind too much; he had never been "cool," but he understood. He looked back at the dark living room and thought back to when he and Will were younger and in college; their "cool" years had never been particularly cool. They'd been fun though, and as annoying and needy as William was sometimes, Henry still believed that running a pizzeria with his best friend was the good life. And to live together besides, blending their houses together when broken families and loneliness and death threatened to separate and swallow them, that was part of the good life, as well.

When the kids were getting ready for bed, Henry covered William with a blanket and set a large mixing bowl on the floor where he could grab it in a hurry, just in case. He wrote "river" on a sticky note and stuck it to the underside of the bowl, then went to the basement to get a little more robotics work done before finally turning in, himself.

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A/N: William only ate the pizza because he was pissed at Henry for scolding him. "I'll eat it and nothing will happen to me. That'll show him!" William says as he stuffs his face and cries.

Next chapter coming soon. Thank you for reading, and if you have a chance, please let me know what you thought of it!


	2. The Day Of

A/N: Content Warning: Vomit, a gory transformation, and a little choking.

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"Henry! Help! Oh god! The blood!"

Henry shot up in bed and flung his legs over the edge, knocking a pile of books and his glasses onto the worn, orange carpet. Morning sun was streaming in through the curtains and the clock said 7 A.M. He didn't have time to think of anything except that Will was in danger. In his haze of urgency, it took him two tries to put on his robe and three tries to put on his glasses.

Henry stumbled down the stairs, tripping more than once on the shag carpet. Finally, he rounded the corner into the living room, used the back of the couch to propel him faster, and slid on socks into the kitchen.

It took him a moment to realize there was no blood and no one was dying. The kids were sitting around the table eating waffles, except now they were staring at Henry in alarm; all except for Elizabeth, who was grinning, greatly amused. They were dressed for school and their backpacks were piled on the kitchen island, waiting for the bus.

William was standing with his back to the stove as eggs fried, wearing the "Rad Dad" apron Henry had bought him half as a joke and half to shame him into cooking more. His eyes danced, all signs of last night's sickness gone. Will snorted a "Good morning," as though he could barely contain his laughter.

Henry ran an exasperated hand through his hair and closed his robe. "The hell, Will?"

William shrugged and scraped the eggs onto the waiting dish. "You were late," he said simply.

The mixing bowl from last night had been used for waffle batter and was now soaking in the sink. William was dressed in a fresh Hawaiian pattern buttoned shirt and knee-length shorts, as though he was ready to go on vacation. His face was bright and his hair floated in a clean, healthy fluff, held in place with a dab of gel; it was as if he hadn't been drenched in waxy sweat less than eight hours ago. There were six sack lunches sitting in a line by the refrigerator, each with a name in permanent marker written in William's chicken-scratch handwriting, accompanied by the round smiling rabbit he doodled everywhere.

"Turkey sandwiches, carrot sticks, and jerky for lunch," William said, cracking another egg into the pan for Henry. "This family doesn't eat enough meat."

Henry sat numbly in one of the open chairs crammed around the small table by the window. William had cut up oranges and cooked two packs of bacon and set them in the middle of the table. Henry poured syrup on his waffles and took an egg from the plate when William danced it over to the table. Henry stared at William the whole time, watching for any sign of the flu that had laid him out the night before.

William never made breakfast and he was never up before Henry except when he accidentally stayed up all night; and even then, he didn't make breakfast. Henry could barely get him to sit down and eat, let alone get him to help with the cooking. William didn't do the dishes and could never remember which day was garbage day. This idyllic kitchen scene, summer sunlight filtering over a breakfast table covered in colorful, lovingly-made food, surrounded by children happily eating with plenty of time before the bus arrives, was something Henry hadn't seen since his wife left. It gave him the creeps.

"Are you feeling all right?" Henry asked finally, putting an orange slice into his mouth.

William set the frying pan into the sink before it had a chance to cool off and the sizzling of the water vibrated the countertop. "Feeling great," he replied with a wide smile. He rolled his shoulder and earned a satisfying pop. "I slept all night, back pain's gone…in fact, I can't remember the last time I felt this good."

"Oh. Well," Henry deliberated, "That's good, I guess." He made a mental note to check the garbage in the kitchen when they got to Freddy's, to see if William had eaten the contaminated portion of the pizza. He should also probably run a toxicology diagnostic on the robotic sludge. He needed to make sure that, if William did ingest it, he wasn't going to grow a third arm or drop dead.

William smiled wider, if possible. "Aw," he said patronizingly as he squeezed behind Henry with his own plate. "Uncle Henry's worried about me."

Henry ignored him and picked at his food. William piled his plate with the rest of the waffles, eggs, fruit and bacon, easily three meals-worth of food, and ate it all. Henry couldn't believe how quickly he inhaled it; it was as if he hadn't eaten for days. Charlie and Mike exchanged a look of disgust, but Elizabeth and Nicholas were amazed by their father's performance and gave him what was left from their own plates, hoping he'd do it again. Henry wondered if he should take William to the hospital, but there weren't any truly alarming symptoms and Will acting strange wasn't actually all that strange. Still, he needed to keep a close eye on him.

Henry and William waited until the bus came and then they cleaned up breakfast, Henry got dressed, and they headed to Freddy's. William chatted the whole commute. Henry chatted back for a while, but after twenty minutes, William was still going at it and Henry started falling behind.

William hopped out of the car before Henry had put it into park. The sun was already hot on the back of their necks as William unlocked the glass double doors of the restaurant and briefed Henry on the multiple parties scheduled that day. They stepped inside the dark, silent building, the bright party decorations looking dull and somber in the shadows. Henry followed William to the kitchen as he turned on the lights and put their lunches next to uncooked pizzas in the industrial size refrigerator.

"You sure you're all right?" Henry asked again as he started preheating the oven.

William approached fast and Henry jerked backward out of reflex when William grabbed his shoulders, friendly but tight. William looked directly into his eyes, still smiling. "Focus, Henry," he said. "We have a lot of work to do today."

Henry stood perfectly still, something primal inside him not wanting to startle the taller man, the larger animal. "But last night—"

"Too much sun," William cut him off.

The front door jingled behind them in the main room and William looked over his shoulder at the mother and child walking in. The mother looked around the room and then locked eyes with Henry. William waved at her and said they'd be out shortly. He turned back to Henry before leaving and lowered his voice.

"Two hours early," he said in a dark whisper that curled up at the edges. "Makes you wanna fucking kill something, doesn't it?"

When Henry didn't respond, he gave Henry's shoulders a quick pat and let go. He strode confidently out to welcome the birthday girl and talk with the mother about where they would like to have the party and how many guests she was expecting. As with every party, they wanted the long table closest to the stage. It was a good thing Henry and William had been able to get the animatronics up and running again.

Henry slowly straightened his own shirt and brushed away the creases on his shoulders from where William's sweaty hands had gripped him. With a glance to make sure William wasn't looking, Henry dug through the garbage can by the sink; inside were the paper plates from the night before, but the piece of pizza, the one with the substance splashed on the crust, was gone.

The day was going well for a long time and William's spastic energy brought Springbonnie to life. The kids loved his dances and his jokes and, because he felt so good, he even did a few tricks like a handstand and a cartwheel. Henry was glad he was feeling so well, regardless of the reasons. It was odd, then, when, in the middle of the second birthday party of the day, William pulled Henry aside and confided that he was going to go lie down in the office for a bit.

Whatever had given him the previous burst of energy had fizzled out and even in his mask, Henry could tell that William felt worse than he had the night before; he was hunched far over with one hand pressed into the wall and another on his knee so he wouldn't topple over.

"Sure thing, Will," said Henry. "I can take it from here." William swayed like it was all he could do to stay standing. "You going to be all right?"

Will patted him weakly on the shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Henry," he said as he passed. He dragged himself down the hall and shut himself in the office.

When he was gone, Henry ran into the kitchen, quickly scrubbed his hands with hot water and soap in case whatever William had was contagious, and went to the costume closet to put on his Fredbear costume. Henry didn't like wearing the Fredbear suit because it was heavy and the metal pieces pinched, but with William out of commission, and the parents having paid expecting to have a mascot character entertain them, there really was no other choice.

—

William crashed into the office and opened a window. Removing the Springbonnie mask, he stuck his head outside and gulped in fresh air in hopes that it would fend off the fainting spell he felt coming on.

He had had his fair share of food poisoning throughout his life—the questionable street taco, the sushi sitting on the counter too long—but he had never felt anything quite like this. He felt itchy and hot and putrid all over, as though he, himself, was rotting meat left in the sun too long. He kept alternating between high energy and no energy, and he didn't know how to make it stop. It made him jittery and afraid, though of what he didn't know.

If Henry found out it was from the pizza, William would never hear the end of it.

Will stripped the heavy mechanical suit from himself less carefully than he should have, but he still managed not to trigger the springlocks. The office didn't have a couch and Will didn't want to sit in his office chair, so he crawled under his desk, curled up, and dug his face into his arms, hoping unhappily that he would be able to sleep off whatever this was.

For the rest of the day, he slept fitfully, catapulted endlessly from one nightmare to another, always being chased or torn apart, sometimes he, himself, being the one chasing and tearing. Sometimes his children or Henry were there, sometimes he was at home, or at Freddy's, or in dark woods, but always the hunt, the fear. He felt it building in his chest, growing like a parasite, crawling and eating its way to the surface.

He felt the pressure building to a climax and his eyes snapped open to darkness. But it wasn't a parasite coming up, it was vomit.

Will lurched up and hit his head on the underside of his desk. Rubbing the new sore place on his forehead, he stumbled through the dark office to the closest bathroom, the communal one down the hall. Thankfully, it was empty. He burst open one of the stalls and collapsed to his knees, gripping the toilet bowl like it could save him.

He retched, once, twice, but nothing came up. He was shaking now, cursing the toxic storm brewing inside him that refused to dissipate.

Suddenly, something broke and he felt acid rising in his throat. He retched once more, but it didn't come out. Instead, it splashed up the back of his throat like a wave, crashing up through his sinuses, making them burn. He coughed, eyes watering, but the acid was still spreading. He gasped in a breath and felt the acid suck into his lungs. Down his back, through his limbs. If he had been able to think rationally, he would have worried his stomach or appendix had burst, but all he could think about was how terrified he was. He had to escape, get help, but he couldn't make himself let go of the toilet bowl.

Eventually, there was a lull in pain. He felt himself swooning.

"H…Henr—"

The acid pierced him like springlocks and he arched back in agony. It was pushing him, breaking and changing him from inside. He tried to cry out but his jaw was broken. His face grew longer and thinner until he could see what looked like a snout appearing before his eyes. Black blood dripped from his mouth into the water and onto his hands, which were also tearing and growing, all knobby bones and claws and dingy yellow fur.

He had to get Henry, he thought, had to find him before it was too late! He wrenched his aching hands open and tried to leave, but he tripped over his elongated legs and smacked his face on the tile floor. His bones were shifting inside him, tearing themselves apart to build something else, something inhuman and much larger. He pressed a hand to his splitting arm, willing it to stop changing, but it wouldn't obey. His breath came out in ragged wheezes as his lungs transformed to suit his new body plan.

With each wheeze, he called for Henry, but it never sounded quite right to his tall, sensitive ears.

Henry? What's a "henry" and why did he need one so badly?

He forgot who he was calling for, forgot what he used to look like and why it was so important to return to it.

Once the pain ebbed away, he picked himself up off the floor and shook the blood out of his fur. He sniffed at the shredded clothes around his feet and wondered why they smelled like him. He stood tall, stretching his long, lean spine up toward the ceiling, inhaled two lungfuls of scent, then crouched and stretched low over his powerful legs. The place he was in…there were other creatures here. Maybe creatures he could eat, which was good because his hollow belly ached with hunger.

He dipped his long snout into the porcelain bowl for a drink and caught sight of his large eyes, his whiskers, his tall flicking ears. He looked wounded, with black blood oozing from his eyes and nose and neck, but he didn't have time to worry about that.

Right now, it was time to hunt.

—

"You're welcome, drive safe!"

Henry slid the cash into the till and watched the children and parents of the final birthday party walk to their cars in the dark parking lot. The party had gone over and Henry was eager to go home and go to bed. He hadn't slept much the night before, having spent the first half in his robotics workshop and the other half worrying about Will.

Speaking of which, he should go check on the weirdo and make sure he hadn't died. William had been silent all day; he hadn't even snuck to the kitchen for a snack. Henry pictured him passed out on the floor of the office like he had on the couch the night before. When the final car turned onto the road, Henry locked the front doors and flipped the sign to "Closed." He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head, trying to massage out the kink that had settled in that afternoon. He turned off the oven and grabbed William's untouched lunch out of the fridge, hoping to get him to eat something. On his way to the office, he switched off the main lights, leaving only the one by the doors so that he wouldn't trip on streamers or bits of pizza on the confetti carpet.

There was a crash down the office hallway and Henry stopped in his tracks. "Will?" he called. "You alright?"

There was a rustling sound coming from the bathroom, a snuffling that made the dark hallway seem like a breathing mouth. Henry had been startled at first, but then he was angry. Here he was worried about his friend, and William was playing pranks.

"Glad you're feeling better," he said curtly, peering into the dark bathroom. "Could have used your help today." He saw the hunched shoulders of something fuzzy behind the wall of stalls. Had Will seriously put on that goddamned rabbit suit again? Will didn't seem to hear him; he was focused on something in the corner of the room and was scratching at the plaster with long claws. Henry didn't remember William putting claws on the gloves. The snuffling sound continued and Henry was fed up with William's games. He was tired from a long, hard day and he wanted to go home.

Henry flipped on the switch.

It wasn't Will. The creature lifted its head, a small thing on a long thin neck, and locked eyes with him. It looked like a giant, emaciated rabbit except its long arms and legs and curved back made it look like it was just as comfortable on two feet as on four. It had two massive ears that swiveled to lock onto Henry like turrets and its eyes were large and glassy, a little wall-eyed but sharp. Henry could see his own frightened reflection in them.

They stayed like that for a long moment: Henry frozen, not knowing what to do, and the rabbit with its chest heaving in quick breaths, taking in his scent, preparing to dart. Henry stepped back, thinking of locking himself in the office, but he slipped on what was left of William's Hawaiian shirt and shot an arm out to steady himself.

That action was enough to break the spell. The creature opened its wide mouth, slobbery jaws lined with rows of needle-sharp teeth, and let loose a screaming roar that rattled the stalls. Henry didn't wait to find out what that meant.

He lurched into the hall, lost his footing, scrambled to regain it. The rabbit crashed out after him and slammed clumsily into the wall, blocking his path to the office.

Henry ran as fast as he could into the main stage room, desperate to find a place to hide as quickly as possible because there was no way he could outrun that thing.

The tattered, bloody clothes…did that thing get William? Did it…could it have…

Henry couldn't think of that right now. He had to find a place to hide, but there were none. The rooms with locks—the office and the safe room—were both down the same hall. He had to lure it away somehow, without getting caught. Then again, he couldn't let it run wild in the restaurant. What if it got out and attacked someone? No, if at all possible, Henry needed to contain it.

He glanced back and saw that it was still coming after him, sharp claws digging into the floor as it followed him onto the carpet, green night vision reflecting the light from the entryway.

Henry looked up at the stage as he ran, looked up at the thick curtains on cheap curtain rods. "They don't have to be sturdy," William had said in the home store when they were picking them out. "We'll put up a sign. No kids allowed on stage. Simple as that." Now, Henry thanked William for his thriftiness and took a sharp turn around the back of the stage. He slipped his belt off, made a loop and ducked low behind the curtain.

The back area of the stage was tight and the seven-foot rabbit had to stop running in order to squeeze between the stage and the wall. Henry heard it sniffing and grunting, having lost sight of Henry in the fabric and was now trying to relocate him. Henry held the looped belt in one hand and carefully stood, wrapping his hand in the heavy red curtain. The rabbit hadn't seen him yet and Henry unblinkingly watched the back of its twitching ears as it searched for movement. This wasn't a good idea, but it was the only one he had.

This is for Will, you bastard, he thought, then took in a deep breath.

"Hey!" he shouted.

The creature snapped its head around and those giant eyes focused on him. Its ears flattened in a snarl and it lunged.

Henry spread the curtain between them and the beast crashed into the thick fabric. It spit and slashed and Henry yanked hard, snapping the wall braces and bringing down the whole curtain rod onto them. High on adrenaline, he climbed on top of the squirming animal, wrestled the rod under its chin and pressed it into the floor.

The creature struggled and choked, fighting its tangled hands up, trying to get the rod off, but Henry held it firm. Henry hadn't wanted it to be this way, but even inside the curtain, the rabbit was too powerful and Henry knew that one swipe of those claws or bite with those teeth and it was all over.

The rabbit's fight began to fade and Henry knew he was winning, and yet he was alarmed. He didn't want to kill the thing, just stop it. Henry lessened the weight on the curtain rod and as quickly as he could, he found the creature's snout through the fabric and looped the belt tight around it, wrapping it around and around until the jaws were held safely in place. The creature was barely moving now and Henry worried that maybe he had broken its neck, but that's something that would have to wait until they were both safe. Right now, he had to get the rabbit into the safe room.

Carefully slipping the rod out of the curtain, Henry bunched the edges together so that it made a sack around the monster. As subdued as it acted at the moment, he knew that he only had minutes, maybe just seconds before it snapped out of it. Using what strength he had left, Henry dragged it across the main room, down the hall past the bloody bathroom, past the office, and to the safe room at the end with the industrial-strength locks. "We should have a safe room at Freddy's with a bulletproof door," William had said when they were planning this on the floor in Henry's living room. "What? Don't you want to be safe?" Bless you, Will, Henry thought, sweat beading on his brow as he dragged the squirming sack into the center of the safe room.

He made sure it wasn't going to move, made sure it was still breathing and that the curtain wasn't suffocating it, then he let go and dashed back into the hallway, locking the door from the outside. "Locks on the outside, in case we need to lock in any perpetrators, and locks on the inside, in case we need to keep perpetrators out," William had said when Henry told him it was a dumb idea. "It just makes sense."

Henry chuckled tiredly to himself, sliding to the floor against the door. He laughed, thinking of how well Will had prepared them for this moment, and then he buried his head into his knees, his heart beginning to ache.

He listened to the rabbit's sad muffled groans from inside the room. How was he going to tell the kids? He'd need to call them eventually so they wouldn't worry and he'd need to call animal control or the police or someone to take care of the rabbit. But right now, he needed to catch his breath.

* * *

A/N: Translation of the sad muffled rabbit groans: "Why are you being so mean to me? ;A; I just want to play and eat and not be locked in a room ;A; ;A; "


	3. The Morning After

A/N: Content Warning: Implication of alcoholism

* * *

Pain stirred William out of sleep. He felt the dull ache of the corners of heavy objects on his back that had been sitting there for hours. He felt the sharp bite of a rat trap clamped on his fingers and the back of his hand. No, he thought, not a rat trap…something stronger and more familiar…

Springlocks.

William's eyes shot open to see a dusty, scratched-up wall in front of his nose. He wasn't where he expected to be; he wasn't at home in his own bed, or under his desk in the office. Instead, he was wedged behind one of the tall, metal shelves in the safe room, crammed through the bottom shelf with boxes of wires and animatronic pieces. He was half-buried under heavy broken suits, equipment, and boxes that had tumbled onto him from the higher shelves and he could barely move.

His left hand was throbbing. When he looked down, he saw that, somehow, he had shoved it between the grates of the shelf where one of the old springsuit gloves had gotten kicked and rolled underneath. His hand was half inside it and the sensitive, faulty locks had triggered and pierced it in several places. There was a little pool of dried blood where it lay palm up with fingers curled like a dead spider.

Whimpering quietly, William tried to pull it loose but all he got was new, sharp pain when the blood rushed to his fingers again.

He shivered in the chilly morning air and felt goosebumps rise from his shoulders to his bare feet. It was then he realized he was naked: fully nude with nothing covering him but dirt, blood and scratches. No clothing in sight except for a pile of what looked like curtains in the middle of the floor, far out of his reach.

"H-Henry…?" he called. No one answered but his own confused moan reverberating off the empty walls.

The safe room was trashed; shelves had been pushed over and their contents scattered and broken. There were scratches all over the walls and piles of sheet rock dust on the baseboards. Deep gouges had been cut into the linoleum floor, and more than a little blood was swept haphazardly across the floor, walls, and ceiling like a half-hearted art project. William felt panic bubbling up and he began to shake. He yanked on his injured hand and shoved at the debris that pinned him.

"Henry!" he pleaded. His throat was dry and felt like it was full of rocks, making his voice crack like Michael's when he got angry. As he yelled, he felt his neck burn, as though he had opened up a cut. He worked his right hand free and pressed it to the front of his throat where it stung; his fingers came away with half-dried blood on their tips.

"Henry! Hello? Somebody!" William squirmed and pulled like a trapped animal waiting for the hunter to return. He didn't know why he was here or why he was naked. While he was terrified and confused, part of him suspected Henry had played a cruel prank on him that had gone too far: maybe one involving drugs, maybe to get back at him for all the jokes he had played on Henry throughout the years.

He thought of this and his anger rose. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, yanking at his injured hand, his fingers stinging in protest. "Bastard! It's not fucking funny anymore!"

The door to the safe room unlocked and creaked open. William was still heaving, panicked and furious, but he stopped yelling. The door opened wider and, finally, Henry walked carefully inside, looking as worn as Will felt. Henry looked slowly around the room, at the blood and destruction, but he also peered around as though he was searching for something that might be hiding.

William wanted to thank Henry for saving him, but what he ended up saying was: "What's the big idea, huh?" The words shook out like sugar through a sieve; they were supposed to bite, but they wobbled instead.

"Will?" Henry said, looking at him as if for the first time. "I…I thought…"

"I'm fine," said William, clearing his throat and pulling again on the hand under the shelf. "Just…springlocks got my hand and I don't know, I think I bumped the shelf and all this shit fell on me and…stop staring!" Henry slowly knelt in front of the curtain and lifted one side up as though he expected something might be underneath. He pulled his belt out of the pile, unwound it and looked at it in wonder. He looked up at Will, gears grinding behind his eyes. "Would you just…just help me, please?" Will asked.

Henry stood still and silent in the room, the belt held out in his hand like an offering, as he stared at Will. In the soft light filtering down through the high narrow window up by the ceiling—Henry had promised William that it was high and small enough for the safe room to still be safe—William saw that Henry's shirt was torn, rumpled, and untucked. The knees of his jeans were covered in dust that he either hadn't noticed was there or hadn't thought to brush off. His short beard was mashed and wild-looking, stubble showing up on the parts of his cheeks and neck that he usually kept clean-shaven. Under his eyes were heavy bags that looked like bruises.

"Will…" Henry said again and hesitated. "Did you see the…"

William's shoulders were beginning to cramp up and he was getting frustrated that Henry wasn't moving faster to help him. "The what?" he snapped.

"The rabbit." Henry paused. William felt adrenaline shoot through him. "The giant, man-eating rabbit," Henry continued. He motioned awkwardly with his hands. "It attacked me. Last night, it… I locked it in here. And now it's gone."

For the first time in his life, William wasn't in the mood for jokes. He smiled sarcastically. "Ha ha. And I suppose it ate your homework, too."

"I thought it ate you," said Henry suddenly, then clammed up as if he hadn't meant to say it. "I saw your clothes, all torn up and bloody, and I thought…" He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. He scuffed his shoe on the floor.

Fractures of a nightmare teased the corners of William's mind. A giant rabbit sounded ridiculous, yet something about it stuck in his mind, poisoning him like metal leaking from a rusty nail. He hadn't seen a giant rabbit, but something about the idea made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He felt like Henry was accusing him of something, but that was ridiculous as well. This whole crazy situation was ridiculous. At least it didn't seem like Henry was behind it.

"My hand," William said softly. "Could you please."

Henry obliged and approached the shelf. He began lifting the heavy equipment off of William's back and William, embarrassed, told him not to look. Henry reminded William of the times he wandered through the house in the middle of the night in his underwear, sometimes without, searching for a 4 AM snack. William didn't appreciate Henry bringing it up and reminded him that it had only happened once; Henry corrected him and said "twice."

When Henry removed the last box, he dragged over the curtain and tucked it carefully around William. It was such a small, kind thing to do, and it was so Henry. He was always doing small, thoughtful things to make life better and easier, whereas William had trouble remembering even to do the bare minimum. For example, when it came time to buy back-to-school clothes for the kids, Henry always made sure to take them to stores that carried the styles they liked, even though a one-stop discount store could technically check all the boxes. Even when he was tired, Henry planned meals around what sounded good to eat and made sure not to have too many items in it that the kids didn't like. And when William quit drinking after too many drunken rages and hungover mornings at Freddy's, Henry made sure to keep the fridge stocked with cherry Coke to give him something cold to drink in the evening besides beer.

William felt like crying, thinking of all this. Whatever was happening, he was in deep shit, and he was so, so grateful that if anyone had to see him like this, it was Henry. "It doesn't look too bad," said Henry as he examined William's hand in the spring suit glove. They decided to pry up the broken plastic slats in the shelf until they could pull William's spring trapped hand free.

Henry helped him to the office and they sat across from each other at Henry's desk: William wrapped in the curtain with his hand under the beam of the desk lamp as Henry used the miniature hand crank to unscrew the springlocks. They sat in silence for a long time in the peaceful office, their full concentration on the springlocks; once in a while, William winced and Henry apologized, but other than that, they didn't speak. Finally, Henry was able to slip the glove off and he went to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.

When Henry left the room, William squeezed the curtain around his shoulders and walked slowly to the bathroom where Henry had said the bloody clothes were. He peered in as though he expected something, maybe the giant rabbit, to jump out at him. The bathroom was destroyed. Stall doors had been ripped off of their hinges, the tile floor had been scratched and broken, and there, spread across the floor were the bloody, tattered remains of the clothes William had been wearing the day before. He didn't remember what happened to them and he didn't remember being attacked, but if he had found clothes that looked like that, he would have thought the owner of them had been eaten, as well. Just like the safe room, blood was all over the bathroom in haphazard swipes, but as William looked closer, he saw that there were footprints and handprints and paw prints all mixed together in a frenzied dance.

Will hiked the curtain higher on his shoulders, crouched, and curiously measured his uninjured hand against one of the paw prints. He quickly pulled it away and scolded himself for even letting his mind go down that road. He was a roboticist, a mechanic, not some looney who believed in magic and monsters. He picked his shorts up off the floor but they were unsalvageable. His shirt, too.

"This is where I saw it," Henry said from behind him. "The rabbit. It was crouched over there in the corner."

William stood up and looked where Henry was pointing; the wall had deep scratches in it. The rabbit had probably smelled something there, maybe a rat, and was trying to dig it out. At least, that's what a man-eating rabbit might do. William didn't know and he didn't like how quickly the theory had come to him.

"I wonder where it went," he said, looking at his sad image in the crooked mirror over the sink. With their stubble and eye bags, he and Henry were a matching set.

"That's what worries me," said Henry turning to leave the horror show of a bathroom. William followed him out. "I should have called animal control, but I couldn't bring myself to and now it's gone." He guided William back to the chair and William rested his injured hand gently on Henry's desk. It had been pierced in many places, bled a lot, and would probably scar, but it didn't look like any bones had been broken. Hopefully, he wouldn't lose any dexterity. "I called the kids, though. Put Mikey in charge."

"He probably loved that," said William, wincing at the disinfectant. Henry looked up from his work briefly to say something but frowned instead. "What?" asked William. Henry stared at him, at his neck, for a long moment before twisting the head of the lamp around so it shone directly into William's face. Will shielded his eyes from the glare, but Henry didn't let up. He leaned in closer and pressed his fingers to William's throat.

"Cut it out!" William swatted his hand away.

"You've got a bruise on your neck," Henry said in wonder.

"So? I must have cut myself on the shelf."

"You have a cut, yes, but you also have a big bruise right under your jaw. All the way across, like a line."

"I'm covered in bruises," William said, annoyed. "What's your point?"

"Do you know how I got the rabbit into the safe room?" asked Henry. William didn't reply, wasn't following the logic. "I choked it," Henry continued. "With a curtain rod."

William's hand floated up to his throat and felt for the bruise. His fingers brushed up over the scabbed cut and to the smooth, tender skin above that he knew was discolored. He kept waiting for Henry to break character, to say "Gotcha!" and "I can't believe you fell for that!" but he didn't; he stared at Will with a frown, deadly serious. Henry wasn't one for those kinds of pranks anyway.

"No," said William. "You can't be thinking..."

"You were gone, Will," Henry said. "I searched the whole place for you last night, but you were just gone. And suddenly, when the sun comes up, you show up in the safe room where I locked the rabbit in, and now the rabbit's gone."

"No."

"I'm just following the evidence," Henry reasoned.

"No," William said again, more forcefully. "You're better than this, Henry."

"It adds up—"

"I don't want to hear it!" said William. He stood up and cradled his bandaged hand in the folds of the curtain. His heart was beating a mile a minute. "I don't want to hear it. I want to get dressed and go home and have a shower and forget this whole thing ever happened." He yanked the hem of the curtain out of the way of his feet and he strode out of the office toward the costume room. Henry ran after him and put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down but William shook it off.

"We have to talk about this, Will," Henry said.

"I'm getting dressed and going home," said William. "You can come with me or not."

He didn't want to hear Henry's theories about where the rabbit had gone, especially not when his main theory involved William turning into it and wreaking havoc like some mass-market "It came from the swamp" Halloween crap. Whatever had happened—whatever had really happened—was terrifying enough. The giant rabbit could go wherever it wanted. As long as it left his family and his restaurant alone, William didn't give two Fazbear tokens where it went or what it did, and he wished Henry would stop talking about it.

It was possible that William had put on his rabbit costume in some kind of fugue state and chased Henry, and for some reason, Henry mistook him for a monster and proceeded to choke him. It was dark down the office hallway and Henry had been tired and overworked. That's what must have happened.

William's theory was dashed, however, when he opened up the costume closet and found his other rabbit suit hanging up, untouched. That plus Springbonnie in the office meant both rabbit suits were accounted for. He didn't let Henry see his shock, though. He turned away, took the bottoms of the suit off of the hanger and went to the small bathroom by the kitchen to change.

When he was alone in the tiny, fluorescent-lit room and let the curtain fall to the floor, he realized just how cut up and bruised he was. He stepped quickly into the pants and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. Catching sight of his bloody face in the mirror, he ran a wad of paper towels under the faucet and wiped off what he could. When he came back out, Henry was standing in his undershirt and holding his dress shirt out to William. Without a word, William accepted it and sheepishly put it on, even though it was so much bigger on him that he looked like he was swimming in it.

"We can go home," said Henry, "But we need to rabbit-proof the second basement."

"My lab, you mean," William said, irked.

"Mine is too close to ground level," Henry reasoned.

When Henry and Charlie came to live in William's house, Henry and William ended up with two labs-worth of equipment and it no longer fit in just one basement. There were no more spare rooms, so they decided to dig a second basement under the first, a smaller one set into the foundation where they could store their most sensitive projects such as temperamental AI or caustic chemicals, everything that was better locked far away from the kids. Because most of those kinds of projects were William's, the second basement had more or less become his workshop. It was quiet and secure. Plus, that deep under the ground, the small desk-top television couldn't pick up any channels and the radio couldn't pick up any stations, so it helped William stay focused.

"Fine." William rolled up the sleeves so they didn't fall over his hands. "If it'll make you feel better."

"And we should pick up some sleeping pills or tranquilizers or something," added Henry.

"Henry, really," William groaned. "Even if you're right and I was the rabbit, it's out of my system already. Chalk it up to a weird chemical reaction and leave it at that."

"I hope you're right," said Henry. "But…" He hesitated.

"But?" William prodded.

"The kids," finished Henry.

He didn't have to say any more. There was no way William believed the rabbit episode was going to happen again, but if it did and they didn't take the proper precautions, it would be their children who paid the price. William thought of Lizzie or little Nick running down to his workshop to say goodnight and finding a feral, unrestrained beast waiting. He didn't want to play along with Henry's paranoia, but if there was even one billionth of a chance that Henry was right and Will would change again, they had to be prepared.

William sighed, averting his eyes. He absently felt along the bruise on his throat. "Maybe we should…get some rope, too, then. You know, just in case." His heart beat hard in his ears even just saying that out loud. He didn't want to believe Henry's story, but something deep down, like a programmed response in his DNA, was terrified. Even though he didn't remember last night, his body did, and he felt like he would rather die than go through it again.

After scrubbing the bathroom and safe room with bleach and piling all the damaged items from the stage room and bathroom into the back to deal with later, Henry quickly made a "Closed for Maintenance" sign, stuck it to the front door and they locked up and left.

It was a sunny morning, the beginning of a perfect day to relax in a lawn chair with a book and a coke. Out the window of the station wagon, William watched people jogging or walking their dogs, enjoying the cool summer morning before it got too hot. He felt tragically removed from it all, a black stain on an otherwise colorful world, and all he could do to engage was watch them go by and pretend he wasn't screaming inside.

Henry asked if he was all right and William didn't answer, just continued watching the colorful people walking down the colorful street. They stopped at a farm store on the way home and William stayed in the car feeling sorry for himself. A little dog barked at him from the window of a truck parked next to him and William flipped it off before sinking into the seat and trying to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, Henry rapped his knuckles on the window and William unlocked the door. He set a plastic bag on William's lap and Will started digging in it while Henry put the car into gear.

Inside the bag was exactly what they had discussed—ropes and a large bottle of pills labeled "EquineChill"—but there was something else, too: a large, metal dog muzzle. Henry was taking this were-rabbit situation too seriously. William took the muzzle out of the box and held it up, letting it dangle in the car like a dirty secret. Henry glanced at it, then his eyes went back to the road.

"You almost took my arm off last night, Will," he said.

"If it bites so much, how do you expect to get the muzzle on?"

"You'll just have to put it on before you change."

William gave him a long stare. "I'm not going to walk around wearing a muzzle in my own home, Henry," he said.

Henry shrugged and didn't speak for a full minute. He stopped at a crosswalk and motioned for a woman and her dog to cross. "Hopefully," he said finally, "you'll only have to do it once."

When they pulled into the driveway, Michael was already on the front porch, closing the door behind him. William sank a little lower into his seat and tried to scrub the last bits of blood from his hands with a napkin from the glove box, fully aware how unhinged he looked. He wrapped the shopping bag up tight to make sure that the contents weren't visible through the plastic and put on a wide smile before getting out.

"Morning, Mikey!" William greeted tucking the bag under his arm. He ruffled his son's hair and Mike sunk away out of his reach.

"The hell are you wearing, Dad?" asked Mike as he ran his fingers back through his hair, fixing it.

William realized that Henry's button-up shirt had some blood smeared across the front, too, and so did the yellow rabbit suit pants, but it was the best he had at the moment. "Language, Michael," he said, his smile calcifying. He was not in the mood to be sassed by Michael; he just wanted to go inside and be left alone for a while, maybe forever. Why were the kids home, anyway?

Henry rushed around the side of the car and joined them on the steps. "Thanks for holding down the fort, Mike," he said. "Everyone all right?"

Michael glanced at William, then looked back to Henry. "They're playing in the sprinkler out back," he said.

"And you're not in school because…?" William prodded.

"Teachers in-service day, Dad," said Mike. "I told you."

"Of course you did," said Henry with a warm smile as he grabbed William's shoulders and started pushing him toward the house. "Well, thanks again, Mike, for taking care of everyone." Henry guided William inside and upstairs. Mike followed.

"So what happened?" he asked. When Henry didn't answer, Mike followed them onto the second-floor landing. "At Freddy's." Henry stopped pushing Will and they both looked at Mike. He was crossing his arms uncomfortably, his intuition radar going off the scales. He had always been good at reading people. "You don't have to hide stuff from me," he continued sullenly, "I'm almost sixteen."

Henry looked at William, beaming his thoughts, asking "Should we tell him?" telepathically. William shook his head emphatically. The last thing he needed was his children to find out what had happened last night or what—God forbid—might happen tonight.

"We should tell him," Henry whispered out loud, which meant that he intended to tell.

"I'll deny everything," William hissed through his teeth. Mike looked between them as they argued. William was glad the younger kids were outside.

"Dad," said Mike quietly, touching his own neck and then motioning to his hand. "You hurt yourself?"

William hesitated, his fingers working nervously at the plastic grocery bag. Finally, he shoved it into Henry's hands and he grumbled, "Knock yourself out." There was no hiding it from Mike now but he didn't want to get into it; he didn't know if he could even articulate it. Henry would be able to explain it better and if William was going to suffer the embarrassment of having his children learn what he had been up to last night and the state he had been in this morning, he didn't really want to be there to hear it repeated back. He could smell the blood and sweat on himself.

"I'm taking a shower," he said. Will walked between them and into the bathroom without another word.

As he turned the shower on, he heard Henry's soft, caring tone filling Mike in on the details. He couldn't hear what Henry was saying, but he could imagine it well enough. At least Henry's version would probably be kinder than what had really happened; he'd probably leave out the blood and strangulation and nakedness. But regardless of how Henry touched it up, Mike would still leave the conversation thinking his father was crazier than he already did.

When the water was hot, William shut himself in the shower and sat on the floor. He sat facing the stream, letting the hot water beat his forehead and dribble into his eyes, nose, and mouth, stinging the holes in his hand. The hissing of the rusty shower head sounded like an animal and William closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in it. He sat there until the water turned cold.

* * *

A/N: "You're so freaking embarrassing, Dad, but I'm still worried about you, because I love you or whatever," Mike mumbles grumpily to himself as he makes potato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, his dad's comfort food. He's a good older brother and a good son, but I dare you to say that to his face.


	4. The Second Night

Henry did his best to keep William calm throughout the rest of the day, but it was hard when night drew closer and with it might come a repeat of the previous night's horrors.

William was very quiet all day, and he sat curled up on the couch while Henry explained to the kids in the most kid-friendly way possible, what might happen to him in a few hours. He sat with his arms wrapped tight around his knees and he stared, haunted, at a spot on the floor, as though he expected something to claw up through the carpet. The bruises from that morning had deepened and Henry was aware that, during the night, Will had hit his face on something and given himself a black eye.

Charlie, Elizabeth, and Nicholas sat on one long couch and across from them on the other sofa, sat Henry, Will, and Michael; Mike was excited to be on the couch with the adults and he eagerly clarified the parts of Henry's explanation that he felt might confuse his younger siblings. Charlie caught on quickly, though she didn't exactly believe them at first, but that was okay, just so long as they stayed out of the second basement. The younger ones believed immediately and asked William what they deemed very important questions such as what color his "bunny-form" was and if he had named it and why did he turn into a bunny instead of something cool like a velociraptor and could he do it right now for them please just once?

William didn't act like he heard them, but with each question, he sank a little further into himself and Henry realized that, inside, he was probably freaking out.

"Okay, you guys," Henry said cheerfully as he stood up. "Go outside and play and give your dad some space." Elizabeth and Nicholas reluctantly obeyed, after Elizabeth planted a surprise kiss on Will's cheek, which made him flinch. Mike and Charlie wandered outside, too, with a pile of comic books.

When they were gone, Henry sat slowly beside Will. "What do you need, bud?" he asked quietly.

William smoothed his hair back with his good hand, still staring at the spot on the carpet. "We should've never messed with that damned goo," he said under his breath. "Should have just…" He paused, picking at a patch of stubble on his chin he had missed shaving.

Henry put his arm around his friend's shoulder, the way he knew Will found comforting. "We'll figure it out," he said. "Okay?"

William nodded in agreement, but it looked more like surrender. William had never been good dealing with even mildly-stressful situations. If the party supply company sent them the wrong size party cups or they ran out of pizza with still more parties scheduled for the day, he would leave his apron, gloves, and name tag on a kitchen counter and announce he was going to go into the back to "get some work done," which usually meant he was going to lock himself in the safe room with the crime novel he had brought in his briefcase. And when he did, Henry would figure out alone how to make do with the tiny party cups and how to ration the pizza so there was enough for everyone.

William couldn't leave this one to Henry, though, as much as he would like to. There was a chance he wouldn't change tonight at all, and then Henry would happily return all the supplies to the farm store, unused, and years later they would sit on the porch and laugh about the time they were legitimately scared William was going to turn into a giant rabbit. But until they knew for sure, they had to prepare as though it really was going to happen.

William hugged his knees tighter and rested his forehead on them, hiding his face. Henry patted him gently on the back. "Come on," he said. "We better get everything set up."

They went down to Will's lab and removed all the equipment they thought the rabbit might damage, which ended up being everything except the desk and shelves; they left the old loveseat down there as well, which William promptly curled up on to watch Henry take the heavy stuff out. Henry didn't have the heart to ask him to help. Henry took boxes of half-finished animatronic limbs and trays of nano-technology experiments into his lab and tucked them into any spare corner he could find. The boxes lined the walls and covered the floors, leaving only a narrow walkway from one set of stairs to the other. When Henry finished, he went back into the second basement to check on his shell-shocked friend.

William was off the couch and standing in the center of the room with his back to Henry, opening and closing his hands nervously as he scanned the room for anything else the rabbit might break.

"Do you think it'll leave my desk alone?" he asked quietly and it took a moment for Henry to realize he was talking to him and not himself.

"With the tranquilizers, I'm hoping it'll leave everything alone and just take a nap," Henry replied.

William flexed his hands again. Open and closed. "Do you think it's really safe to have it here?" he asked. "Maybe we should do this out in the woods away from the house?"

Henry wasn't used to hearing Will talk like this. He had gone from denial that morning to now talking as though the transformation was inevitable. Maybe he felt something sour stirring inside: an unsettling knowing that something was going to happen, the way dogs always seem to know when a thunderstorm is forming.

Henry put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is the safest place for whatever happens," he said. "It always has been, hasn't it? You, me, the kids, the house, we're strong here."

William looked away and seemed like he was going to sink to the floor, but Henry held him up. "Hey," he said softly. "It's half past six, about three hours before sunset. What do you say we get dinner and relax for a bit? Jeopardy's on at seven. It's the championship tonight, remember?"

"I think I better stay down here and wait," said William unhappily.

"We'll eat down here with you, then," said Henry. "We'll get the rabbit stuff ready and the moment something happens—if anything does—we'll get the hell out. Sound good?"

"No…"

"Tough," said Henry, "Wait here and we'll bring the food down."

"No." William shrugged Henry's hand off. "Fine, I'll watch the damn game show with you." He clumsily climbed the stairs, muttering, "Last thing I need is my children to see me in a muzzle." Henry was glad to see a little life return to William and, thinking his pep talk had worked, he followed him up without further comment. Besides, William had been looking forward to the championship all week; watching might help take his mind off things, at least for half an hour.

As Henry climbed the final staircase into the kitchen, he almost ran into Elizabeth who was coming down the other way with her arms full of blankets. She tripped on the stairs and pitched forward and only avoided tumbling down into the lab when Henry grabbed the back of her shirt.

"Whoa, Lizzie! Where's the fire?" he asked.

"Daddy and I are having a sleepover," she announced and it was then that Henry noticed she was carrying two pillows and enough blankets for two people, along with a laundry bag full of toys. "I brought him toys so he won't be bored in his lab when he turns into a bunny."

Henry chuckled to himself. "Does your daddy know that?" he asked as he helped her take the supplies into his lab.

"Yeah," Elizabeth replied. "He told me earlier." Did he now? thought Henry. Elizabeth was so confident in her fibs that she didn't pay much attention to whether they were believable; it was no mystery who she had picked that up from.

Elizabeth peered down the stairs into the second basement. "You took all the stuff out of his lab," she said. "All his books and stress ball things and desk toys. Good thing I brought my ponies. He would have been super bored!"

Henry crouched to her level. "That's very sweet of you, Lizzie, but I'm afraid you can't stay with your dad tonight," he said. "You can hang out with him upstairs until it gets dark, but after that, you, your brothers, and Charlotte need to stay upstairs, okay?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms sourly, scrunching up the unicorn iron-on graphic on her t-shirt, making it look like it was frowning, too. "But what's he gonna do by himself all night? What if he gets lonely? Or sad or bored?"

Henry motioned to his own desk, which was piled with his and William's files of research and poorly organized tools, wires, and bolts. "I'll be right in that chair if he needs anything," he explained. "All he's gotta do is knock. I can keep a few toys and blankets down here in case he gets bored or cold. If you want."

Elizabeth crossed her arms tighter. "It's not fair," she said, her strawberry blonde curls falling into her face. "I wanna see him turn into a rabbit."

All three Afton kids looked quite a bit like William, especially when they made faces like that. Even though Elizabeth had her mother's hair, she had her father's signature scowl. "He might not even turn into a rabbit," reasoned Henry. "He might just sleep all night and nothing'll happen."

"Lame," muttered Elizabeth.

"Lame's good sometimes, kiddo," said Henry, ruffling her hair. She was still frowning but couldn't help giggling a little. "Come on, you can keep your dad company while I make meatloaf."

"Charlie and Mike are already making mac and cheese," said Elizabeth as they walked up the stairs into the kitchen together.

Sure enough, there they were, standing at the counter together, Charlie stirring the boiling noodles while Mike threw lettuce and what was left of the bacon bits into a bowl to make a salad. Nicholas was outside kicking a soccer ball at lawn ornaments and sprinkler heads. William was nowhere to be seen, but when Elizabeth ran up the stairs, Henry knew William wouldn't be alone for long.

With a smile, Henry went to the fridge and got himself a coke. "Thanks, guys," he said, pressing it to his face, sweaty from carrying all those boxes upstairs. "That's thoughtful of you."

Charlie smiled back at him as she stirred. She was strong and lean from a childhood of backyard stick sword fights and falling out of trees; more than one baby tooth had been knocked out via both. She looked more grown up every day and Henry was immensely proud of her. He wondered what her brother would have been like as a teenager.

"It was getting late and you seemed busy," she said. "And Mike said his dad likes mac and cheese, so we thought it'd make him feel better."

Henry grinned knowingly at Mike, but Mike didn't smile back. Blushing, he focused even more intently on mixing the salad. Michael was a good, kindhearted kid, but for some reason he acted as though people finding that out was the worst thing in the world.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," said Henry, deciding not to embarrass Mike anymore. "Anything I can help with, Charlotte?"

"We got it handled, Dad," said Charlie. Then after a moment, "Maybe get the plates out?"

"Can do," he replied.

Once everything was ready, Henry went upstairs to find Will and Elizabeth, who were sitting on Will's bed together. Elizabeth was showing her dad her sky dancer toy and how, if she angled it when she pulled the string, she could make the rabbit ballerina land on the dresser. William still looked tired and stressed, but he did seem a little more at ease playing with Elizabeth. Henry knocked softly on the door, told them dinner was ready, and then went downstairs to turn on the TV, since it was almost seven.

Henry, Will, and the kids piled on the couches in the living room with their steaming plates of mac and cheese and a little salad as they listened to the familiar opening theme song play across the blue screen. Everyone's favorite part was trying to guess the answers to the questions, and then William would remind anyone who misspoke that they had to phrase it as a "who or what" question or it didn't count. With their mental capacities combined, they got about half the questions right, which was pretty good for a championship round and Elizabeth announced that if she was on Jeopardy, she'd win. Henry laughed and agreed she would. William seemed to be having a good time, but about halfway through his dinner, he got up and took his plate to the kitchen.

"Goodnight, everyone," he said hazily without bothering to poke his head back into the living room. Henry heard the basement door open.

"It's not even seven thirty," Henry called over the back of the couch.

"Goodnight," Will repeated more quietly and clicked the door shut behind him.

Henry waited for a moment for William to re-emerge, but he didn't. The error buzzer buzzed on the TV and Henry stood up. "I'll be right back, kids," he said and he strode into the kitchen, through his lab, and into William's.

William was sitting in the middle of the blanket they had laid on the concrete floor and was slowly removing the contents of the grocery bag, lining them up in a row. He removed the cap to the tranquilizer pills and set one on the floor in front of him. Then he folded his hands and stared listlessly at his lap.

Emptied of all his projects and toys, William's lab looked like a prison cell. The naked bulb hanging from the ceiling that they never bothered to buy a casing for cast sharp shadows across all the gray, painted concrete. It was silent this far under the ground and it smelled cold and wet like earth.

"The buzzer was wigging me out," William said, as if the explanation made any sense at all. In some ways, it did.

Henry scratched the back of his neck. "Are you feeling something?" he asked. "Like before?"

William shrugged and didn't make eye contact. "I feel kinda sick, but I think it's nerves," he replied, picking at the gauze on his hand. "Probably nothing." Even though he said that, he stood up and stripped to his tank top and boxers. He folded the jeans and button-up shirt and stashed them in the bottom drawer of his desk. "So we don't have a repeat of this morning," he said.

"Good thinking," said Henry. He moved to the couch and sat down. He looked at his watch and wondered when they would know everything was safe.

"I wonder how we should…with the rope," said William.

Henry looked at his watch again. It was almost eight. "Maybe we should figure it out before…"

William nodded and began unwinding it. Henry knelt in front of him and began looping it around William's hands. He didn't know what kind of angle he should restrain the rabbit's limbs in or what kind of knots would be strong enough. He hoped that, if the tranquilizers were effective, it would be enough to tie the wrists in front and tie the ankles together. That would at least stop it from running around and breaking things.

When he looked up, he realized William was crying.

"Will, what's..." Henry asked, surprised. "Is the rope too tight?"

It took a few tries before William could get the words out. "What if this…is my life now, Henry?" He looked small and vulnerable at that moment, as wide-eyed and frightened as a child. "If it is, I don't…" he choked on the words. "I can't…"

Henry wrapped his big arms around Will and hugged him close, as though he could shield him from the rabbit lurking in the shadows waiting to tear him apart. William couldn't hug him back because his hands were bound, but he leaned his face on Henry's shoulder and wiped snot on his shirt. "You're okay," Henry said, stroking his back the way he would his children when they were in distress. "You're okay," he said, even though he didn't know if he was. They stayed that way until William stopped whimpering and hiccuping and his breathing slowed to a normal pace.

There was a knock on the basement door. William's head jerked up and Henry turned around.

"Yes?" Henry called.

"Liz and Nicky want to say goodnight," said Charlie, "but I told them they couldn't just barge in. Can they come in?"

"Uh…" Henry looked at William.

William struggled away from him and began pulling at the rope. "Get this damn rope off of me," he said. "I gotta kiss'em goodnight, I can't—you fucking tied this too tight, Henry, you—"

"Breathe," said Henry, staring him in the eye. William inhaled sharply and let it out, then again more smoothly. The mania ebbed away but not before Henry caught a strange glint in William's eyes; his pupils had looked like flat glowing disks just for a second, like dull mirrors. Henry untied William's hands and William sprang up, wiped his face on his shirt and smoothed back his hair. He strode to the door to the basement and opened it himself.

His kids fell into his arms and for a moment a grin spread across his face that was different than the one he gave Henry when he was teasing him or the one he gave customers so they would leave a nice tip. This smile was soft, unguarded, and whatever William pretended otherwise, it was clear he loved his children dearly. If not for them, he probably wouldn't have agreed to any of the precautions that night. He probably would have just gone to bed like normal and been mildly shocked when he woke up on the kitchen floor with the house trashed around him.

"You have to read to us tonight, Daddy," said Elizabeth. "Nicky says so, too. And you missed last night, so you have to read two stories!"

"I have to stay down here with Uncle Henry tonight," said William, his smile fading. "Have Mikey read to you." Mike, who was lurking in Henry's lab, crossed his arms irritably.

"He reads too fast!" said Elizabeth.

"Too fast," echoed Nick.

"And he doesn't do the voices."

Will leaned to the side to look at Michael. "Do the voices," he said.

Mike sighed. "Fine."

"And make sure they brush their teeth."

"I got it, geez. Watch your children for you. Message received."

William was quiet for a moment and seemed to go stiff. He was still hugging Elizabeth and Nicholas, but Henry saw his hands clenching so tightly they were shaking. Something was happening, William was fighting something, and Henry thought back to how he had grabbed him in Freddy's kitchen the day before and talked about killing things. Charlie noticed it too and her eyes met Henry's.

"Okay," Henry spoke up, clapping his hands together cheerfully, "Time for bed. Say goodnight, kids."

William hugged the little ones, gave them each a quick kiss on the top of the head, sent them upstairs to Michael with a half-hearted wave to him, and went to sit on the floor again. Henry walked up the stairs quickly to say goodnight to Charlie.

"Sure you're good?" Charlie asked under her breath.

Henry gave her a hug and thanked her for her concern but said that he'd be fine. "Keep everyone out of the basement, no matter what," he said. "Can you do that for me?" Charlie confirmed that she could. "That's my girl," said Henry. "Sweet dreams."

Charlie went upstairs and shut the door behind her and Henry returned to the second basement. If anything was going to happen, it was going to happen soon and with the way William was acting, the theory of the rabbit episode being a one-time fluke was becoming less and less likely. The way William was staring at the floor, knee bouncing, made him seem even more like a time bomb.

"Maybe we should get you all set up," said Henry. "It's any minute now, I think."

William's knee bounced faster. "Nothing's going to happen," he said firmly. Henry didn't say anything; he hoped Will was right, however unlikely. "Nothing's going to happen and I don't want to do this."

"It's just a precaution," said Henry. "You just have to deal with the ropes and muzzle for a few hours and then it'll be over."

William got suddenly to his feet and went to his desk, pulling his clothes back out of the drawer. "I'm not going to sit down here like some animal. I can't believe I let you convince me that this was a good idea."

Henry rose slowly. "Will, what are you doing?"

"Going upstairs to get some work done." He began putting his pants back on. "This is ridiculous and because of you, I've wasted an entire day on this shit."

Henry grabbed William's arm. "You can't," he said. "We talked about this. It's too dangerous."

"Says you," William spat, struggling to get out of Henry's grip and trying to get his other leg into the pants. "Let go, damn you!"

"You're not thinking clearly," said Henry. If it came to physically fighting him and locking him down here, would he be able to do it? "I'm not letting you upstairs."

William pushed him but he couldn't get loose. "Let go! I can't be down here—"

"You have to—"

"It's dark and it smells bad and if you don't let me go I'll—I'll bite you I'll—I'll bite your fucking head off!" William grabbed Henry's shoulders hard. His fingers dug into him and clenched, sending needles of pain through Henry's arms. When William looked up again, his eyes were glazed over and reflective like before, like dirty mirrors. And running down his face, from his tear ducts and nostrils, were big drops of black blood.

Henry pulled out of William's grip and grabbed the bottle of tranquilizer pills. "Here, take them." He dropped two pills into William's shaking hands but William didn't swallow them; he just stared down at them in wonder, as though his brain was working hard to figure out what to do with them. Henry took the pills out of his hand and slipped them into Will's mouth. "Swallow them. Like food," he said trying to smile, realizing that William's mind was slipping away and Henry was talking to the beast inside him instead, just trying to avoid being attacked. William, or whatever it was, chewed the pills and coughed and gagged.

"Good job," said Henry, mind racing. "A-plus, buddy. Now why don't you come over here, that's good, yes, just come over here and we'll take a nap, doesn't that sound nice?" William walked haltingly with him for a moment, then his gaze floated up to the open basement door. He started walking toward it but Henry stopped him. "No, not upstairs, it's time to go to sleep, okay?" William was pushing and Henry was having a harder and harder time keeping him back.

Suddenly, something snapped in William's expression and he lunged at Henry. Henry saw a flash of sharp teeth and he pushed him back hard. William slipped in the blanket and fell.

Henry used the momentary distraction to race up the stairs to safety. As he went, he heard William cry out in agony, and before closing the door, he looked back.

Will was on his stomach on the floor, writhing in pain. Henry heard something like bones snapping but he tried not to think too much about what was breaking. William's shoulders were growing and shifting, his face was transforming so fast it almost looked like it was splitting in half to make way for a snout of sharp teeth. His ears stretched long and flat, his limbs grew and bent and grew again.

William struggled his head upright on his thin, elongated neck and glared at Henry with the anger of a predator tricked into a trap. And even though his body was still tearing itself apart, the beast clawed at the floor and tried to pull itself toward the stairs.

Henry closed and locked the door immediately. He backed up against his desk. Sooner than he would have thought possible, there came scratching and snarling from the other side. The door will hold, he told himself. It's steel. It's a deadbolt. It will hold. The door shook in its hinges as the rabbit threw itself against it and Henry wondered if he needed to retreat upstairs and barricade that door instead. But finally, the assault began to subside and the scratching faded to nothing. In fact, he didn't hear anything for a long time.

Against his better judgment, Henry quietly unlocked the door and cracked it open, just wide enough to peek inside. William, now fully transformed into the rabbit from the night before, was lying at the bottom of the stairs, fast asleep. Henry let out a sigh of relief and locked the door again. He set the bottle of pills on his desk and collapsed into his chair, wishing that he had been wrong.

—

Elizabeth waited a long time just to be sure everyone was asleep before climbing down from the top bunk and sneaking out into the hall. She had tucked her Circus Baby plush under one arm and her Bonnie plush under the other, because if Uncle Henry was sleeping in the lab like he said he would, digging in the toys she had brought down originally might wake him up. And if he woke up, he'd never let her go down to see her dad.

The house was dark and quiet and she knew no one was watching her. She crept past Charlie's open bedroom door, but Charlie didn't stir. Elizabeth was proud of her sneaking skills; she could be perfectly quiet when she wanted to be. She tiptoed down the stairs, staying close to the wall to avoid squeaking, and skipping the stairs she knew squeaked all the way across. Finally, she reached the ground floor. With the skill of Johnny Quest, she turned the knob to Henry's lab and opened the door without making a noise. The basement stairs were creakier than the ones in the main part of the house, but Elizabeth had been down them so many times, that she had memorized the only quiet path.

Henry was asleep at his desk with the basement light on. His hand was clenched around a bottle of what looked like vitamins. Elizabeth craned her neck in curiosity as she passed, trying to figure out what they were, but the words were too big. All she could tell was there was a horse on the front. Maybe they were horse-flavored chewables.

Now for the hard part. With a glance to make sure Henry hadn't woken up, Elizabeth reached up to the deadbolt high up on the door and slowly turned it, paying close attention to any sign of resistance, anything that might cause the metal to squeak or grind. She worked it loose and finally got it fully unlocked. She was so excited to see her dad, to see what his bunny-form looked like, and so excited that she had gotten this far without being caught, that she was tempted to rush, but she stopped herself from yanking the door open like she usually did. She turned the knob carefully, glancing back at Henry all the time. He was so close to her that, if his eyes opened even just a little bit, he'd see her and would be able to reach over and grab her. But he didn't. She opened the door just enough to slip through, and eased it silently closed again.

Elizabeth stood on the top stair of her dad's lab. She looked around for a rabbit for a moment but then she realized that the lump of greenish-yellow fur at the bottom of the stairs was the rabbit. It was her dad. She crept down the stairs, careful not to make any noise, and stepped around the giant rabbit. It was the biggest animal she had ever seen up close and she felt bad that she had told her dad to turn into a velociraptor instead, because this rabbit-form was pretty cool. Maybe he had taken her advice and changed to a cooler version of a rabbit, more dinosaur-like with long claws and muscles and less like the fluffy ones you could buy in pet stores.

Elizabeth crouched down close to her father's massive head. His eyes were closed and his whiskers were twitching; his big, floppy ears were lying sloppily on the floor like a basset hound's. He looked like he had gotten hurt and there was some sticky black and red stuff in his fur, but he was still pretty cute. She liked his thick yellow fur. She smiled and stifled a giggle, thinking how lucky she was that her dad could turn into a rabbit and how jealous the kids at school would be.

The floppy ears shot up and the big glassy eyes popped open; both locked onto her. His nose wrinkled in a snarl, showing his long slobbery sharp teeth. His hackles rose and he began to push up onto his forearms.

The sight might have scared anyone but Elizabeth. She had taken care of a feral kitten before, so she wasn't fazed. Of course the rabbit would growl at her at first, she reasoned; it just meant he was scared because he didn't know what she was going to do. She took the Bonnie plush out from under her arm and showed it to him. His ears relaxed a little and he stretched his nose toward it, sniffing and cocking his head to the side to see it better.

"You like that one?" Elizabeth whispered. The rabbit finished sniffing and she tucked Bonnie under his paws. She showed him Circus Baby. "I like this one, too."

Her rabbit-dad reached out one clawed hand and grabbed the plush. He brought it to his nose and sniffed it for a few seconds, then set it next to the other one. Elizabeth reached out a hand and began stroking the fur between his ears. He jerked back at first, surprised, but as he stared into her eyes and she kept petting and he realized nothing bad was happening, his shoulders and whiskers relaxed and eventually, he rested his chin down on the stuffed toys. He looked sleepy, maybe a little sad, and Elizabeth felt like the petting helped.

She continued stroking his fur as they sat there together. His ears sank to the floor again and he closed his eyes with a tired sigh. Very slowly, she scooted closer and leaned her head against his bony side. Without opening his eyes, he lifted his arm to make room for her and she cuddled in close.

* * *

A/N: Lizzie never went through a "horse girl" phase, but she did fancy herself an animal-whisperer who could make friends with every feral cat and mouse and raccoon. Looks like she was right.


	5. During the Day

A/N: Alternatively titled: "Shoes in the Ball Pit" or "Everyone's Trying Their Best"

* * *

Morning came early and softly; William didn't remember the last time he had slept so well.

He wondered if he had transformed last night the way Henry said he would. To be honest, he couldn't remember most of the night. He remembered saying goodnight to Lizzie and Nick but after that…nothing. Also, he felt like he had fought with Henry at one point, but that wasn't an odd occurrence and he was sure Henry would fill him in on the details if it was bad. He yawned and twisted his head to the side, earning some pleasant pops from his neck and shoulders but when he opened his eyes, he jerked backward and he felt his heart stop.

He was naked and bloody and because of that he knew immediately he had, indeed, changed into the rabbit again. But that wasn't what had made him jump; he jumped because lying beside him on the floor, tucked snugly under his arm, looking like a sleeping forest creature in her fuzzy fleece PJs, was Elizabeth. William examined her for scratches or bite marks, but thankfully, she looked unharmed and the only blood on her was from him.

He glared up at the basement door, anger boiling at Henry for letting her get all the way down. She must have come down in the morning after he had changed back or she wouldn't have made it to the bottom of the stairs. If she had come down here when he was still transformed…he chased the bloody image out of his mind.

William carefully disentangled himself from her and, using the stuffed animals he had been sleeping on as an unsuccessful covering, he lurched over to the desk and fished his jeans out from where they had gotten kicked underneath.

"Daddy?" Elizabeth's groggy voice floated up from the floor.

William quickly zipped his pants and pulled his shirt on. Don't panic, he told himself. Whatever you do, you can't panic in front of her.

He spun around with a disbelieving smile pasted on his face, as though he hadn't just been spooning his own daughter nude. "Lizzie!" he said too loudly with a nervous laugh. "What are you doing down here so early?"

Elizabeth hopped up from the floor, beaming. "I saw you when you were a rabbit!" she squealed. "You were big and yellow and you growled at me, but I let you borrow my stuffed animals and then you let me snuggle with you!"

William stood staring at her in silence, hands clenching the desk behind him so hard his fingernails hurt. His ears started to burn and then the blush spread to his cheeks. She was still smiling at him, bouncing in place like a toddler, too excited to notice how uncomfortable he was, too enthralled to stand still. William didn't know what to say. Elizabeth came skipping over to him and he bent to her height.

"That's…impossible," he said quietly, praying that she would agree and admit that she was teasing him and she had snuck into the basement just an hour or so ago.

"Nuh-uh," she insisted. She smiled, raised her hand, and stroked it once over his messy hair, as though she were petting a dog.

When her hand made contact, fragments of memories and sensations sparked behind his eyes. An abandoned attack, wide eyes in the dead of night, the smell of Lizzie on a Bonnie plush, a hand touching his head smoothing all his worries away.

William jerked upward out of her reach, nearly colliding with her nose. Elizabeth looked just as confused as he was but he didn't offer any explanations. Instead, he inched sideways along his desk, as though squeezing out from under her gaze, and shakily climbed the stairs without another word. The door was unlocked and when he opened it, he saw Henry asleep at his desk, face buried in his arms, the chair slowly sliding away. William clenched his jaw and kicked the chair out from under him.

Henry hit his face on the desk and fell to the floor with a surprised shout and William resisted the urge to kick the shit out of him. He couldn't tell whether it was fully his anger or if some of the rabbit's aggression was still in him, but he didn't care. The fact still remained that Elizabeth could have died and it was Henry's fault. Henry picked himself off the floor and rubbed his forehead. "Will," he said surprised, looking up at him. "You're awake and dressed already." Will did kick him then, though not as hard as he wanted to. "Ouch, hey!" Henry clutched his throbbing shin. "What'd I do?" He paused and recognition seeped into his eyes. "How did you get through the door?"

"Elizabeth was down there with it," said William, his fists shaking at his sides. Henry was supposed to be the reliable one. William knew he left the oven on sometimes and forgot to order supplies for Freddy's and didn't always wear latex gloves when handling the animatronics' circuit boards, but he knew, whenever he did something careless, Henry would be there to fix it and make sure no one got hurt. William trusted him with his family, and he didn't trust anyone with his family.

William grabbed fistfuls of Henry's shirt and pulled him closer. "Elizabeth was down there with it!" He lifted him and pinned him against the desk. He wanted to bash Henry's head against the wall until he understood. "No ropes! No muzzle! Nothing but a couple horse pills preventing it from—"

Henry's eyes widened in horror. He pulled out of William's grip and William let him go. He stumbled down the stairs and called desperately for Elizabeth. He got a cheerful, "Morning, Uncle Henry!" in response. He said something else unintelligible to Elizabeth and she responded. Staggering to the entrance to the second basement, William sat on the top step and watched them talk, legs shaking too much to stand anymore, head so heavy, he scooted to the side so he could lean it against the doorframe. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if the rabbit had gotten Lizzie. He probably would have exploded like dynamite on the spot and taken half the house with him.

"You can't ever do that again," Henry was saying, as Elizabeth crossed her arms defiantly. "You need to say sorry to your dad and promise you'll never do it again. Go on."

Elizabeth dragged her feet up the stairs and stood in front of William. She smelled like the Cotton Candy Crush lip gloss she had begged him to get her the last time they were at the grocery store together. The scent was strong, much stronger than Will remembered it being, and it mingled with another scent he knew was uniquely Elizabeth's, as well as the scent of something he knew was rabbit. He covered his nose and looked at his feet, trying and failing to stop the feral part of his brain from making connections. He didn't want to get information from smell; that's what logic and reasoning were for.

Elizabeth rocked back and forth on the stair, making it creak loudly each time. "Sorry," she mumbled. She glanced back at Henry who was hauling the rope, muzzle and blanket to the back of the room. He wasn't watching her to make sure she finished her apology, so she bailed early and started to sneak upstairs. Will caught her hand as she passed.

"You could have gotten hurt," William said under his breath. "Really hurt, Lizzie, do you understand?"

"But you liked it," she protested. "You lowered your ears and got all relaxed."

"That…thing…wasn't me," said William. His heart raced just talking about it. "It's a wild animal. It's rabid. Remember Old Yeller?"

Elizabeth gave a pained look. "I hate that movie."

"Well," said William, "it's like that. And it'll kill you and Nicky and Mike and Charlie and anyone else without a second thought." He squeezed her hand, partially to comfort her and partially to comfort himself. "Don't come down here at night ever again, okay?" Elizabeth was quiet. He gave her hand a shake. "Okay?" he pressed.

"Okay, Daddy." Her lip quivered and she wiped her eye. "I just didn't want you to be lonely," she sniffled.

William sighed a "C'mere" and pulled her into his lap. "You're very thoughtful," he said, gently stroking her shoulder. "But let's save your kindness for the daytime when I can enjoy it. The rabbit doesn't deserve it."

"You looked so sad—"

"It wasn't," insisted William. "Because it doesn't feel or think. Now run along upstairs. Uncle Henry and I will be up soon to make breakfast." Elizabeth slowly got up and disappeared into the kitchen. William watched her go and vowed to watch her more closely from now on.

"That's not entirely true," said Henry from below. "The rabbit appears to feel quite a few emotions. Fear, curiosity, anger—"

"Shut up." William whipped around to glare at him. "I don't want to hear another word unless it's about how you're going to fix all of this."

"Don't take your anger out on me," said Henry. "I'm just trying to help. Sorry Lizzie got past me last night, but we'll get a padlock for the door and it won't happen again. I'm going to start looking for a way to reverse this. If there's a cure, we'll find it."

William gripped his knees tighter, relishing the pain from his fingernails. "I told you to stop playing with that godforsaken battery acid—"

Henry threw his hands up in exasperation. "And I told you not to eat the damn pizza!"

William scowled and looked away. There was a long moment when neither of them talked. They listened to the sound of Elizabeth's sock-clad footsteps above their heads as she walked around the living room. Henry sighed and lumbered up the stairs. Even though William was still fuming, he scooted over to make room for Henry to sit next to him.

"We need to work together to solve this problem, not point fingers," said Henry. "We can't let this thing separate us."

"What if it isn't solvable?" William asked, staring into the ransacked basement.

Henry leaned his elbows on his own knees and stared into the basement as well. "Everything's solvable," he replied. He glanced at William and gave him a wan smile. "For the Freddy-Bonnie dream team."

William didn't respond and they stared into the gloomy basement together. Back when they first opened Freddy's, William had truly believed that. Inventing and building their own robot animals by hand and teaching them to sing and dance? Can do. It didn't matter if it hadn't been done before, because with Will and Henry working together, they always figured it out. A house where there were twice as many kids as adults? No problem. It never occurred to William that they could fail at anything. Every loss they'd had since starting the restaurant was just the prelude to hard-won success. But now, their current situation might truly be unwinnable, even for the dream team.

"Are you hungry?" Henry asked.

William was about to deny it when his stomach growled, loud and long. "A little," he admitted. His hunger alarmed him because he wanted more than anything to plunge his teeth into some giant mass of meat like a turkey leg or a pork loin. Rabbits weren't even supposed to eat meat; shouldn't he be craving carrots or tulip bulbs?

Henry pushed up from the stairs. "I'll make some eggs," he said as he left.

William sat alone, fingers working at the seam in his jeans, gears in his brain working at the hellish puzzle. He stared down at the piled-up blanket, now stained with his blood. The change last night had happened too suddenly and forcefully for Henry to get the ropes and muzzle on. The infection was fully spread through him and, after two transformations, William feared whatever was causing it had already fused permanently with him. Henry talked as though he thought it might be reversible, but William wasn't so sure. At the same time, William couldn't bring himself to accept he would be living this way for the rest of his life. His stomach hurt. Hesitantly, he smoothed his hands over his hair and closed his eyes, trying to draw up the feeling of security he'd gotten when Elizabeth did it; all it did was make him terrified that one day the rabbit would kill her, and then the boys.

He went upstairs, careful not to make eye contact with Lizzie or Henry as he passed, and took a shower to wash off the dirt and blood from last night. Slowly, in the heat of the shower, his panic melted away with the grime. The steam from the shower smelled like flowery soap, the hot water felt like a massage on his knotted muscles, and the coolness on his scalp when he stepped out to dry himself off made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt for years. There was still happiness to be found, even in terrible situations, he thought, like grass growing up through pavement. The thought crossed his mind that this sudden change in mood might be a rabbit symptom but he welcomed the lifting of the raincloud, regardless.

When he came back down to the kitchen wearing a clean polo and jeans and feeling like maybe his world hadn't fully imploded, the other three kids were staggering downstairs. Henry was eating breakfast with Elizabeth at the table and he looked up and smiled.

"You're looking better," he said, dishing a pile of steaming, cheese-and-spinach scrambled eggs onto a clean plate.

William sat beside Elizabeth and poured himself some orange juice. "I'm feeling a little better," he said. He put a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Though those pills aren't sitting well."

Henry shrugged, getting up to put bread in the toaster. "They're not really made for human consumption, I suppose."

William cracked a weak smile, thinking that the Freddy-Bonnie dream team was still intact, against all odds, and how glad he was that he didn't have to figure this out alone. He took a drink to hide it. "I guess not." Elizabeth silently took the apple slice from her plate and set it on William's like an apology. William smiled and put the whole thing into his mouth, making her giggle, their fight forgotten.

The Afton boys came wandering into the kitchen in their pajamas, blinking and tired and searching for food. Charlie came in after them, fully dressed in shorts, boots, and an old band tee.

"Morning, Dad," she said as she squeezed past Henry and took a piece of toast half-cooked from the toaster.

"Morning, Charlotte," said Henry. "Where are you off to so early on a Saturday?"

"Jess, Marla, the guys and I are going hiking today," she said, drizzling honey on the bread, folding it over and taking a bite.

"Where?"

"Memorial State Park. We'll be back before dark."

"If you aren't, I'll be calling Jessica's mom," warned Henry.

"I know, I know," said Charlie. There was the squealing of truck breaks and a honk from the driveway. "That's them." Charlie shoved the rest of the toast into her mouth. "Bye, Dad." She gave him a toast-filled kiss on the cheek and waved at the table as she left. "Bye, Uncle Will." William waved back.

The front door opened and before it closed, the sound of "Bro, you excited?" and Charlie replying, "Hells yeah! Gonna own this mountain, Johnny boy!" floated through the living room and into the kitchen.

Michael sat unhappily at the table. "John's so freaking annoying," he complained. "I don't know why Charlie hangs out with him."

William dished up a second serving of eggs with a glance at Henry to see if he was listening. Will didn't like John, either; the boy was too nice, too polite, and would rather eat a dinner roll dry than ask someone to pass the butter. "Why aren't you going hiking with them, Michael?" he asked.

"Because…" Michael scooted a fork across the table. "The rabbit thing, and they're her friends anyway, so—"

"Go," said William. "I'm all right today."

"They're already leaving—"

"Lizzie, could you tell them to wait and that Mike's coming along?"

Elizabeth jumped up from the table and threw open the front door. Nicholas followed her out, excited by the activity.

Michael watched in horror as she delivered the news. He face-planted on the table, making the cutlery shake. "I hate you, Dad," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"It's too late to back out now," said William.

Mike, red-faced and angry, pushed up from the table and ran upstairs to get dressed.

Henry had watched the whole scene unfold from his spot by the toaster. He heard Michael's door slam upstairs. "You can't force people to have fun," he said, shaking his head.

William chuckled. "That's our job, isn't it? Otherwise we wouldn't throw so many birthday parties. Besides, he needs to get out more. Spend time with kids his age. I don't want him to end up weird and antisocial." William wiped his mouth on his shirt, dished himself a third serving, and chugged another glass of orange juice.

Henry paused, watching the display, then brought the toast to the table and sat down. They talked about Freddy's and the parties that had been lined up that weekend and how it was time to trim the tree in the backyard, and William said he wanted to add hamburger pizza to the Freddy's menu, which Henry didn't seem to approve of. "It's a pizza with tomato, onion, hamburger and barbecue sauce. Two perfect foods combined, Henry, what don't you like?" he said, but Henry didn't budge. They talked about everything except the rabbit. A couple minutes later, they watched Michael tumble down the stairs with his shirt on backward, then run out the door and greet Charlie's friends with a nervous laugh and apology. He shooed his siblings back inside and closed the door. Even if it was with John, William hoped Mike would let himself have fun.

Elizabeth and Nicky wandered back into the kitchen, clearly upset that they weren't allowed to go hiking with the big kids. William turned in his chair to face them.

"How would you two like to come to Freddy's with Uncle Henry and me?" he asked. Their frowns softened into smiles.

"Can I play in the arcade for free?" asked Elizabeth.

"I wanna go in the ball pit!" cheered Nicholas.

"I'll give you tokens, Lizzie. And Nick, the ball pit is always waiting for you," said William, standing. "Now run along and get ready! We'll be leaving as soon as everyone is dressed." His children cheered again and ran upstairs. William smiled smugly to himself and watched them go. That disgruntled mother last week was wrong; he was incredibly good with children.

"I didn't know you were planning on coming in today," said Henry.

William turned around with a wide smile. "Of course I'm coming in," he said. "We can't close the pizzeria on a Saturday, Henry, come on."

Henry scratched his beard. "I don't know. We need to be careful."

William piled the dirty dishes and took them to the sink. "As long as we leave before sunset, I'll be fine," he said. The words came so smoothly, but he still felt a jab of adrenaline deep in his spine. He rubbed his eyes and smoothed out the wrinkles to make sure he wasn't making a strange face before turning around again.

Henry stared up at him, swirling his coffee in thought. "No Springbonnie today," he said. "I don't want you straining yourself."

"Gotcha."

"And try to limit your interactions with the customers," added Henry. "You seem better, but you're still in no condition to be working today."

William laughed but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Give me some credit." He felt Henry's eyes boring into him, judging. "What do you think is going to happen? I'm going to flip and bite someone?" Henry visibly jolted and William's smile dropped. "The rabbit comes out at night, Henry. I'm fine during the day. Just a little sore."

Henry rubbed the back of his neck. "Better safe than sorry, Will."

William wanted to give him a piece of his mind, but he took a deep breath and the urge subsided. "Fine," he relented, shutting the fridge a little too forcefully. "I'll work in the back today. Maybe I'll find the cure without you."

"I hope you do," said Henry as he left to change into clothes that didn't look like he had slept in them.

William grumbled irritably to himself and went to the back door, wanting to sit out there while everyone finished getting ready, but then he remembered that Nicholas didn't really know how to dress himself and Elizabeth would definitely forget her jacket. So, with a last wistful glance outside at the porch swing, he turned around and went upstairs to supervise.

When they got to Freddy's, there were already a couple cars in the parking lot waiting. This wasn't uncommon on a warm summer Saturday morning since some customers had gotten it into their heads that they opened at nine instead of ten due to a typo in a flier a while back, but these parents really picked a rotten day to misremember. It gave William and Henry absolutely no time to prepare for the day and got on William's nerves even when he was feeling great. As the parents and kids began to emerge from their cars, Elizabeth helped Nicholas squirm out of his booster seat, and William, the jab of adrenaline still sticking his spine, wondered if he should have stayed home after all.

"You gonna be okay?" Henry asked under his breath.

William looked at the children running to the front glass doors and peering excitedly into the dark restaurant. He glanced over all the cheerful posters in the windows: Freddy singing, Chica eating pizza, Bonnie strumming his guitar, and Fredbear and Springbonnie dancing surrounded by happy children. A lump settled in William's throat; he loved this place, even if it had poisoned him. He took off his own seatbelt and turned around to warn his kids not to run in the parking lot. They promised not to and got out of the car. William moved to get out, too, but Henry lay his hand on his arm. He looked into his eyes, brows knit in concern.

"I'm fine," William said, pulling his arm free. He opened the passenger side door and got out without another word. Immediately, he transformed from "worried Will" to "Mr. Afton." He held his head high and strutted to the customers with confidence, a wide, carefree smile on his scarred face. "Welcome, folks!" he greeted, shaking hands with all the parents. "Glad to have you here. And what a fine morning!"

The parents, who had previously looked a little peeved at having to wait, were quickly infected by his charisma and shook his hand back with gusto. "Sorry we're a bit early," said a father in a neon windbreaker. "Hope we didn't inconvenience you."

"Not at all," said William, and he said it so earnestly, he almost believed it, himself. "Well, let's not waste any more time standing out here. Let's have some fun!" Glancing back, he saw Henry following quietly from a distance, his hands in his jacket pockets. The windbreaker dad asked what happened to William's face, and William, only half paying attention, replied he didn't know.

When they went inside, Henry got the parents set up with a round of fountain drinks and tater tots, and William got the stage animatronics up and running. There were only Freddy and Chica up on stage since Bonnie's insides and fur were still stained and corroded from the goop. William sat crouched in the little control room under the stage, booting up the robots and selecting the programmed song and dance. From that room, he could see camera feed as well and on the camera showing the costume and spare parts room, he could see Bonnie crumpled up in the corner, chest open and endoskeleton exposed, looking as worn out and broken as William felt. He looked into Bonnie's eyes in the camera for a while longer and he imagined they were looking back at him.

"Everything okay in there?"

Will jumped at the sound of Henry's voice and hit his elbow on the control panel, causing Freddy and Chica to jolt unnaturally in the middle of their introduction. Rubbing a new sore place, William glanced back at Henry.

"I'm fine," he said, a little sharper than he meant to. Quit checking up on me, he wanted to add, but when Henry smiled compassionately at him in response, he couldn't.

"Okay," said Henry. "The sample is in the top drawer of my desk, if you wanted to do any analyzing today."

"Thanks." William continued to rub his arm.

Henry went to duck back out of the control room and paused. "If you need anything, give me a holler, okay?" He flashed another pitying smile, then left to attend to the customers.

For another minute, William watched the animatronics on stage, making sure they were following their programming and playing the right song. Then, after another glance at gutted Bonnie in the corner, he left to check on his kids, who he could see imperfectly through the monitors. As they had announced at the breakfast table, Elizabeth was in the arcade room, having already grabbed a pocketful of tokens from William's desk, and Nicky had gone straight to the ball pit. He hadn't taken his shoes off before he jumped in. Though William appreciated his carefree attitude, those plastic balls were torture to clean. He'd better tell him to remove his shoes. At least it would give Will something to do.

As William walked through the main party room and toward the ball pit room, he found himself cringing at the high notes in Freddy and Chica's song, and the high pitch of child voices. He felt like his head was full of cotton and those high pitched tones set that cotton on fire. He looked at his feet as he walked and angled his face away from the room, so that, if Henry was looking, he wouldn't be able to see that the noise was bothering him so much.

William hurried across the sticky confetti carpet overdue for shampooing, and ducked into the ball pit room. The ball pit was set into the floor like a swimming pool, surrounded with mesh netting and had big red and blue plastic slides twisting above and around it like giant hamster tunnels. There was a mat in front that said: "Please remove your shoes" and a wooden cubby shelf with spaces for said shoes. While there were three children in the pit beside Nicholas, there were no shoes in the cubbies.

"Nicky?" William called, standing on the edge of the ball pit. He scanned the children, searching for his son's fluffy mop of brown hair. "You in there?"

The children stopped yelling for a bit, but when they realized William wasn't calling for any of them, they went back to giggling and playing, dunking each other under the balls and climbing through the tubes. William cringed as their voices pierced behind his eyes like a migraine. Nick popped his head out of the top of the red slide.

"Hi, Daddy," he greeted, smiling so big and bright that William found his own lips turning up at the corners.

William lifted one foot and pointed. "Shoes," he said, then addressed the other children. "All of you, shoes off. No shoes allowed in the ball pit."

Nick was about to unvelcro his shoes when a girl in overalls threw a ball at him. He looked shocked at first, but when she laughed and crawled away, he floundered after her. William clenched his teeth together. "Nick!" he called again. Nick didn't answer. The screaming continued bouncing off the bare walls. William wanted to press his hands to his ears and back out of the room, or fish the little brats out of the pit and wring their noisy little necks. The fire in his head began to seep down into his lungs and he had trouble breathing. He clenched his hands tight, fists shaking; the anger had a coppery taste to it and while he knew it wasn't normal, he couldn't make himself calm down.

"Nicholas William Afton!" Will shouted. "You come out here and remove your shoes this instant!" He glared at all the children in turn; he smelled their sweat, their tater tot breath, their fear. If they didn't remove their shoes in the next five seconds, he would rip them off.

Nicholas was still poking his head out of the top tube, but now he looked frightened, too frightened to come down. When William stalked to the other side of the ball pit to get closer, the other children snuck out the front and ran out of the room. Elizabeth barely dodged them when she came in.

"Daddy, I'm out of tokens," she said, "can I…" Her question died when she saw her little brother's face.

William whipped around to face her and, for some reason, he hated her deep in his soul. Even though he never wanted to hurt her, part of him deep down wanted to bite a chunk out of her neck. He had been angry before, but never like this; it was as if he had gone over a drop in a roller coaster and he was going too fast to catch himself. He covered his ears with shaking hands, trying to drown out the child voices from the other room long enough so he could think. He closed his eyes and held his breath, anything to block the stimuli that were driving him crazy. He backed away from the ball pit, away from Nick and Lizzie, until he hit the wall.

Sliding to the floor, he buried his head in his knees and wrapped his arms around them tight, waiting for the anger to pass like a wave of nausea. He was nauseated; he felt the way he had that first night he changed. But how could that be? It was daytime! He shouldn't be changing! He felt his heart beating behind his eyelids. His ribs, arms and legs ached as if getting ready to break and grow. He didn't trust his voice, so he didn't say anything, just squeezed his arms tighter and tighter, hoping his kids would get to safety on their own. He heard Nicky crying.

"Go find Uncle Henry," said Elizabeth.

"What's wrong with Daddy's eyes?" blubbered Nicholas.

"Go to Uncle Henry," Elizabeth repeated more sternly and close by. "I know what to do." Nicholas obeyed and William heard his tiny shoes running out of the room.

William lowered his head further into his lap. "No, Lizzie," he said, his voice strained and muffled. It sounded like a sob, and maybe it was. "Go with your brother." He couldn't get anything else out, afraid that if he let up on his restraints, he'd hurt her.

By his right ear, he heard her get onto her knees. And then he felt her hand, small and soft and gentle, petting the top of his head. A chill ran down his spine. Slowly, his bones stopped pulling at each other.

He felt the rabbit sinking inside him like sediment. For now, it was losing its grip on him, its claws relaxing as it went back to sleep, its rampage postponed for another day. The rabbit was always there, he realized, observing even during the day, waiting for circumstances to put just the right kind of pressure on him that would allow it to surface fully; apparently, one of those circumstances was children.

He squeezed his arms tighter and buried his head further, not because he was afraid of hurting Lizzie anymore, but because he wanted to shrink away into nothingness. If his condition meant he couldn't handle being around children, what was he as a father and a kids-restaurant owner supposed to do? Without realizing it was happening, he began to cry, even though he had vowed never to do so in front of his children. Black tears soaked and stained his polo shirt. Maybe, with his head buried, Lizzie wouldn't notice.

But she did. She draped her other arm over his shaking shoulders. "Shh," she said as she continued to pet his head. "You're a good bunny, Daddy. You're a good bunny."

But he wasn't. He had been seconds away from obliterating those kids. He wanted to believe that he would have stopped himself in time but he worried that, if Elizabeth hadn't come in when she did, he might not have. He might have literally killed them for not taking off their shoes. And worse, he wasn't sure he could blame all of it on the rabbit.

* * *

A/N: Even as awkward teens in a completely different reality, somehow CharliexMichael is sneaking its way into my story. Though, maybe just on Michael's end, and if you asked him about it, he'd deny it. And just for the record, I like John. I think he's a great character. Mike's grumping about him does not reflect the opinions of the writer.

And what will William do now that his outbursts have consequences? He's not off the hook during the day like he originally thought. Gotta find some holistic, long term solutions and fast, just in case there isn't a cure.


	6. Punishment and Mercy

A/N: William learns some hard truths, the antithesis of his favorite thing - soft lies.

And to reply to your question, **A Reader**: I don't have a set upload schedule, though I try to get a new chapter up every couple of weeks. Thank you for reading and I'm glad you're enjoying it!

* * *

When Henry saw Nicholas running toward him with tears streaming down his red cheeks, he knew immediately what had happened.

A handful of other children had come running to their parents from the hallway looking spooked and, climbing up onto their laps, they told in quick, frightened bursts about the man who was yelling at them to take their shoes off.

Henry quickly excused himself and intercepted Nicholas. He knelt and held out his arms and Nicky ran straight into them, sobbing.

"Where's your dad?" Henry asked urgently. Nicholas wiped his eyes and pointed down the hall. Henry looked around for Elizabeth, hoping he could have her keep track of her brother, but she was nowhere to be found. Henry took out the cloth handkerchief he always kept in his breast pocket and wiped the rest of Nicholas' tears away. He took him by the hand and led him to the table with the other children. "Could you please keep an eye on this little guy for me for just a moment?" he asked the parents, hoping his tone didn't seem too desperate.

A mother with a crying little girl pressed into her shoulder stared at him, alarmed. "Who was yelling at my child?" she demanded.

Henry began backing toward the hall. "I am going to see to that right now, ma'am," he said. The animatronics danced away on stage, singing the new song they had taught themselves, making good-natured but alarmingly-sentient finger guns at the children. "Thank you." With that, he turned and jogged toward the back room.

"Will?" he called. He listened hard for growling or scratching, picturing William fully transformed into the rabbit, the restaurant suddenly turned into a death trap. He wondered if he should tell the customers to leave instead of searching for him, but he found himself still searching and keeping his voice down as to not alarm anyone.

"Will!" he called again. He ducked his head into the office but it was dark and empty. He stuck his head into the men's restroom and was on his way to the safe room when he heard Elizabeth talking in a low voice.

His heart dropped and he pictured her cornered in the ball pit, trying to convince a feral beast with long claws and snapping jaws not to eat her. But just as he lurched into the room, ready to fight the rabbit with his fists if he had to, he saw them sitting against the wall together: William with his head buried in his knees, and Elizabeth doing what looked like petting his head. She saw Henry in the doorway and she held up a shushing finger in front of her lips, as though she were an animal expert on some wildlife show.

William lifted his head at the sound anyway. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes were bloodshot, and black blood was smeared across his face and hands. He didn't look well, but at least he was still human. He locked eyes with Henry and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a new streak. "False alarm," he said with a shaky smile, not bothering to make it convincing.

Henry let out his breath and leaned against the doorframe, legs suddenly weak. "Did you—"

"No," William answered. His eyes were blue and human-shaped, not the flat reflective disks of the rabbit. "Almost," he admitted. His eyes searched Henry desperately, like a wild animal, and Henry wasn't fully sure the person he was talking to was Will.

"What's your name?" asked Henry.

William gave him a confused look, more bewildered than angry. "My…my name?" he asked.

"Yes, your name," said Henry, slowly approaching. "I just want to know I'm talking to my friend."

William scowled his signature scowl. "Ronald Reagan," he said flatly.

"Please," said Henry. "Just humor me."

"Fine. William fu—" He glanced down at Elizabeth. "—untime Afton. Favorite ice cream is rocky road. Favorite song, Mr. Sandman. Do you want my social security number?"

"Be nice, Daddy," said Elizabeth. William took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair to calm down. He mumbled out a "Sorry" and Henry said it wasn't a big deal.

Henry smiled, relieved because no rabbit could fake an Afton temper tantrum. He sat down next to William against the wall. "So, uh, what caused all that?" he asked, motioning. William lifted a hand and wiped it over his face, as though he had forgotten the black blood was there.

"I was," William hesitated, took another deep breath, and started again. "The children, they were… well, I guess I shouted at them and then I started getting this…pain in my chest and I wanted to…" He paused for a long moment, long enough that Henry wondered if he should say something. But William finally continued. "The black stuff…it just came out," he said.

Henry nodded compassionately but he knew he never could truly understand. William was staring again—he did that a lot these days—just staring into the ball pit. Elizabeth was sitting close to him with her arm around him. She wasn't petting William anymore, but she was snuggled in close, as though they were watching a movie together. She had already seen and heard way too much for a seven-year-old and Henry felt guilty for not being able to shelter the kids better from all of this.

"Hey Lizzie," said Henry. Elizabeth leaned forward to look around her father. "Why don't you go find your brother? He's at the table with the other kids by the stage."

Elizabeth frowned, looked at William for support, but he was still numbly hugging his knees. Her shoulders fell. She slowly got to her feet and started to leave but William gripped her hand tighter. She looked down at him, confused, but he was staring down at his shoes.

"Stay," he said quietly, desperately. "Please, Lizzie?" Elizabeth looked to Henry for input and Henry shrugged. If William needed Elizabeth here and Elizabeth didn't mind, there was nothing Henry could do about it. Elizabeth hunkered down next to William again and he held her close under his arm like Nicky's favorite Fredbear plush.

"You're okay, Daddy," Elizabeth said softly. "You're doing good." William took in a long shaking breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled.

"It's like I'm allergic," William said out of the blue. "To the moon and children and noise and stress and…and who knows what else." Elizabeth patted his arm comfortingly. "Ever since we got here, I've been right on the edge. And I'm afraid that, if I hear one more screaming child, I'm…I'm going to…" He sighed and scratched the scars on the back of his neck.

"But it's daytime," said Henry. "You've never transformed during the day before."

"Thanks for your contribution, Henry," William snapped. "Helpful, as always."

"I'm just saying, it's a change. Maybe one that will help us understand what's going on and how to cure it. Maybe it means your transformations are preventable."

William frowned, meaning to look angry but the dark circles under his eyes just made him look exhausted. "Are you saying that you believe the rabbit fucking me over during the day as well as at night—"

"Language, Will, geez—"

"—thereby stealing my whole fucking life, is a good thing? Did you stick your head in Freddy's mouth? Because you're talking like someone with brain damage."

Henry had lived with William too long to be affected by his insults, but the despair in his voice worried him. Behind his antagonism, he was crying for help, clinging to Henry like a weeping child, begging him to tell him that he was going to be all right. But at the same time, he believed he was doomed, no matter what Henry said. And antagonizing him back wasn't going to solve anything.

"How did you stop it?" Henry asked calmly.

William was still glaring at him, hackles raised, raring for a fight, but when he saw Henry wasn't going to give him one, he relaxed. "Ask Elizabeth," he said.

"I have magic hands!" announced Elizabeth, showing them to Henry. "I just pet Daddy on the head like this—" She demonstrated. "—And he calms down!"

Henry looked to William for confirmation and William blushed deeply; he wiped more black blood from his nose and averted his eyes. "It responds to her," he said, "for whatever reason." Elizabeth hugged his arm and grinned a grin that made her look like a happier version of her father.

Henry looked around the room, unsure of what to say. There were children's drawings all over the walls of the animatronics: produced by drawing and coloring competitions he and Will hosted for holidays. The winner got a free pizza and one-on-one time with either Fredbear or Springbonnie. The kids used to request both of them equally, but over the years, the requests for one-on-one time with Springbonnie decreased. This upset William, who was intensely competitive and kept track of who got more requests. Henry said it was probably just because Fredbear looked like Freddy and Freddy was the main animatronic on all the fliers, but secretly he wondered if William was a little too honest on his bad days while wearing the Springbonnie suit.

They used to get complaints from parents once in a while about "the rabbit" swearing at the kids, sometimes even complaining to William, himself, thinking one of the part-time employees had been wearing the suit. When that happened, William and Henry solemnly promised that they'd give the employee a stern talking to and it would never happen again. In private, William laughed so hard about it that tears came to his eyes, but Henry warned, while stifling his own snorts, that if he kept it up, it'd drive away business.

"Maybe Elizabeth is the cure we're looking for," said Henry. "Until we can find something more permanent, maybe you just need to spend time with her when you start to get stressed."

"Yeah!" said Elizabeth, excited. "We can have a sleepover in my room and we'll draw and color and give my ponies makeovers."

William looked helplessly at Henry and the door, then back down at Elizabeth. "I…" he sighed. "I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a try." Elizabeth cheered and squeezed his arm tighter, causing a small smile to sprout on his worried face. As he explained to Elizabeth that he couldn't actually sleep in her room every night, Henry looked up at the door and saw Nicholas standing there watching them. William glanced up as well, to see what Henry was looking at, and the smile dropped from his face.

"Nick," he breathed. He leaned forward a little, wanting to say more, but he couldn't get the words to come out.

"Daddy's okay now," said Elizabeth, motioning her brother over. "Look."

Nicholas crept closer, stopping every few feet and waiting, to make sure everything was okay. Henry nodded encouragingly. Finally, he made it all the way over and William carefully leaned forward and hugged him. "I'm sorry, Nicky," he said in Nicholas's ear as he buried his head in Will's shoulder. "It'll never happen again. I swear."

Without looking up, Nicholas held up his hand, one pinky outstretched. William hooked his own pinky around it, locking in the promise. Because of how selfish William often acted, Henry sometimes forgot how much he loved his children. Will wanted to solve the rabbit problem for himself and for Freddy's, sure, but it was clear the thing that caused him the most stress was his kids' wellbeing. He wasn't a perfect father but he cared about them and was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe, maybe more even than was healthy. Henry couldn't let him down again.

"Let's get you home," said Henry.

"It's Saturday," said William. "We can't close Freddy's on a Saturday. I'm fine."

"No, you're not—"

"I'm fine—"

"No. You're not," Henry insisted. William glared at the ball pit, pensively rubbing the back of Nicholas's t-shirt. Henry sighed. "How about we finished up this current birthday party and then go home? Is that an acceptable compromise?"

William was quiet for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally.

"Good," said Henry. He scuffed his shoe on the floor in thought. "I'll, uh, I'll speed them along and you can hang out in the office in the meantime. Sound good?"

"I want to stay in the office with you," said Elizabeth. Nicholas added a soft "Me too."

William lifted Nicholas off his lap and disentangled Elizabeth from his arm. "Go with Uncle Henry for now, okay?" He got slowly to his feet, using the wall for support. "Daddy needs a moment to himself." The kids started to protest but he snapped his fingers and pointed. "Henry or no TV this weekend." Elizabeth continued to hang on his arm and beg, but once the threat of no TV extended to two weeks and he made it clear that Saturday morning cartoons weren't exempt from this, she quietly took Nicholas's hand and they followed Henry out of the room.

Henry looked back when William didn't follow them right away. He had stopped by the ball pit and was staring vacantly in. "Will?" Henry prodded. "Are you going to the office?"

William scratched the side of his face. "Yeah," he said into the ball pit. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. I'm just…collecting my thoughts."

"Okay," Henry said, trying not to let his concern shine through too strongly. "Let me know if you need anything."

"All right," said Will as Henry herded the children into the main room. He really hoped William was fully in his right mind. He decided that, once he got the cake cut and the second animatronic act up and running, he'd come back to check on him. Just to make sure he made it to the office and didn't get lost on the way there, confused, shaking, bleeding, rabbit-brained.

—-

William sat on the edge of the ball pit. He took his shoes off and dipped his feet into the balls, kicking them back and forth as though it was a swimming pool. He imagined he was at the public pool with Henry and the kids. Nick was doggy-paddling in water wings, Elizabeth was doing cannonballs off the diving board, Charlie and Mike were playing water volleyball, Henry was sitting on a lawn chair under an umbrella with a book on his lap and sunscreen on his nose. I want to go to the pool, thought William as he lay back on the economy-carpet floor and stared up at the fluorescent light in the ceiling, his blood-smeared hands making black spots where they fell. But pools had screaming children, and lots of them. Thanks to the rabbit, those days might be over.

He focused on his breathing, whistling through his stuffy nose: in William, out the rabbit. In peace, out—

A sound caught his ear; it sounded like whispering and buzzing wires at the same time, and it was coming from the vent up close to the ceiling. William sat back up and walked to the vent, trying to get a closer look. At first, he thought he had imagined it since it was so quiet, or that it was sound that had drifted from the party room. But now, standing under the vent, it was clear it was coming from there. He listened closely and craned his neck, trying to see inside but it was too high up. It was a voice, alright. It sounded like a recording because of the static, but it didn't sound like one, because he got the feeling that it was trying to talk to him. It spoke in short statements with wide expanses of silence between, as if waiting for a response.

William felt himself beginning to sweat and he realized he was terrified, and yet, something about the voice was familiar, internal, as though he had donated a kidney and he was meeting the recipient. Or rather, like he was the recipient and the donor was in the vent.

"…room. Meet me," said the voice.

"What?" William called back despite himself. He pressed his ear to the wall as though it would help him hear better. "I can't—"

"Parts," said the voice. "Services. Meet me."

The parts and services room was where William and Henry brought the animatronics when they needed maintenance or upgrades. It was where they had stashed Bonnie after gutting him and scrubbing out the fluid that had started all this. William hurried down the hall in his socks like a man possessed. His legs threatened to give out at any moment, begging him not to go into that room with the paranormal rabbit, but even if he was going to his doom, he didn't have a choice.

The door to the room had a big red sign on it that said "Employees Only," but the door was never kept locked. He pushed it in and turned on the light, half expecting Bonnie to ambush him and finish the job. But he didn't. Bonnie was sitting propped up against the crates at the back where William had left him, his chest panel open and the moving pieces scrubbed and smelling of antiseptic, drying on a towel on the floor. Bonnie's plastic eyes were staring lifelessly at the ceiling, but William still felt like he was watching him in his peripheral vision.

William crossed his arms uncomfortably and rubbed a hand over his mouth, suddenly self-conscious about how badly he had been dealing with his situation. "So, I'm here," he said lamely. He waited but Bonnie didn't respond. Muffled laughter and music drifted through the thin walls. He felt stupid standing there waiting for something to happen; he felt insane for thinking the voice in the vent was real. He was losing it, but he couldn't allow himself to go full-blown crazy; at least not until his kids were grown. "Get it together," he scolded himself, pushing his hair back in irritation. He waited another long moment alone in the dusty room.

"This is idiotic," he said and turned to leave.

"William."

The voice was low and thin and gravely, as though transmitted long-distance over telephone wires. It rattled in Bonnie's mouth, but it was clear it wasn't Bonnie who was talking. Whoever was talking wasn't even in the building, maybe not even on earth.

"Y-yes?" William ventured.

"William," the voice said again. "Poor. William."

The rabbit in William responded to the voice like a TV antenna picking up a signal; its heartbeat felt like glass in his stomach. William winced and crossed his arms low over his torso, trying to calm it down. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"You're having a tough time with it," replied the voice.

William took a deep breath and squeezed harder. If this kept up, he was going to have to sit down. Bonnie's insides were glowing faintly and he thought he saw the outline of a body within but something told him it wasn't human. "Yeah, no shit," he said. He thought of the supernatural fluid inside Bonnie, in the petri dish, inside himself. The glow inside Bonnie was the same color. "Did you…did you poison me?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation.

William's heart beat loud in his ears and he wished he had Elizabeth there to calm him down. "But…" His voice sounded whiny to his own ears. "But why?" It was the question he had been asking himself since this whole thing had started. Why him? What had he ever done to deserve this? He was just a simple restaurant owner, a mechanic. Why would a supernatural entity choose him to bully?

"It's a punishment," said the voice, "and a mercy."

"For what?" William demanded. "I haven't done anything!"

"You would have. If not for this."

"Done what?"

"You know."

Inside the cavity of the Bonnie animatronic, William thought he saw a long scaly snout with sharp, jagged teeth. They were the kind of teeth used to catch prey and rip it to pieces. William was that prey, he had been caught between those teeth, and no amount of struggle could get him loose. Those teeth were in him permanently, no matter how far he ran.

"Remove it," William said, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. "Remove it and I promise I'll never do whatever you think I'm going to do. I swear. On my kids' lives, I swear. Just tell me what it is and I won't do it."

"You would fail." The statement was flat, unemotional, and nonjudgmental, just a statement of fact.

"How is sticking me with a killer rabbit supposed to keep me from doing bad things?" William asked.

"I didn't stick you with anything," replied the voice. "I just gave what was already in you a form. One you can't control or use to harm others. Nurture it and keep it safe and you both will survive this."

"I don't…" William didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe who he was talking to. "For how long?"

"That is uncertain," said the voice. "The length of your life is hard to predict." The voice waited for a response, but William was speechless. "Take heart," it continued. "this is the lesser evil."

The glow began to fade. William lurched forward and grabbed Bonnie by the shoulders.

"No, no, no, no!" He shook the casing. "Stay here and unpoison me, you fuck! You can't leave me like this. If you do, I…" The glow disappeared completely and the rabbit went back to sleep. "…I'm going to hurt someone." He shoved Bonnie to the floor and yelled at the ceiling. "You hear me?" he shouted. He kicked Bonnie in the side. "I'm going to hurt someone and it'll be your fault! It's your fault, not mine!" He kicked Bonnie harder, but the glow didn't return. "It's your fault."

He sank to the floor, panting, his foot throbbing, his chest tight with tears. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He curled up next to the animatronic and tried petting his own head for comfort, but it didn't work.

* * *

A/N: "Your lifespan is hard to predict, William. You might live to eighty, or you might die tomorrow because you decided to do a backflip in the Springbonnie suit."

Just nurture the rabbit, Will. Eat carrots, watch romantic comedies, and stop calling it mean names.


	7. Stages of Grief

A/N: Content Warning: Alcohol, implied alcoholism, and mild self-harm (Will is mean to the rabbit).

* * *

"Will? You alright, buddy?"

William awoke to heavy hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. He opened his eyes and there Henry was, kneeling above him in the dark, looking alarmed. Henry was wearing the Fredbear suit, just missing his mask. Clearly, he had come directly from the party room. William wiped a hand over his face and felt where the blood had dried in crusty clumps.

"Must've dozed off," Will replied, rubbing his head. He had a pounding headache on par with the kind he used to get with hangovers. He didn't ponder where it had come from; he felt like all crappy things in his life from here on out would be caused by the rabbit. He glanced back at Bonnie lying crumpled on the floor, the machine parts on the towel scattered. The suit wasn't glowing anymore and William wondered briefly if his experience with the toothy spirit had been a dream.

"Not the most comfortable place to nap," said Henry as he helped William to his feet.

"This room's too full of ghosts," William agreed, watching Bonnie carefully as though expecting him to move.

Henry was quiet for a moment. "Do you mean figuratively or, um…"

William wiped the old blood from his palms onto his polo shirt. "I don't know," he confessed. "Never mind. I'm still waking up. Is the party over?"

"Wrapping up," said Henry, glad to change the subject. "Then we can get the hell out of here."

William couldn't shake the thought of the thing inside Bonnie, those teeth and what they said to him: that he was cursed and would remain cursed for the rest of his life. He hoped it had just been a stress dream. After all, it was the kind of thing his anxiety was likely to tell him, whether or not it was true. "And Nick and Lizzie?" he asked.

"Playing with the other kids. Social butterflies, those two." Henry patted William on the back as they left the supply room. "No idea who they got that from."

"Sometimes I wonder," William laughed but it squeaked out like a cough, as though his lungs were full of rabbit. Henry patted him harder on the back, thinking he was choking.

Will didn't want to deal with customers or wait alone in the office, so when Henry returned to the party, William watched from around the bend in the hall, arms crossed awkwardly. He watched as Elizabeth chased the birthday girl around as though they were best friends, and Nicholas sat at a spot at the table that was far away from the stage and ate cake. Nick caught sight of him and William gave him a little wave.

The spirit had told him to "nurture the rabbit." What a ridiculous notion. William had plenty of legitimate things to nurture in his life without shoehorning in some beast that didn't deserve the attention. That's what it had been doing from the start, hadn't it? Acting out to get attention.

The squealing children were getting to him again, so he turned toward the office. As he walked, William jammed his thumb into one of the springlock wounds in his palm, sending rays of pain up his arm. He felt panic shoot through his ribs and up the back of his neck and he knew the rabbit didn't like being—or expect to be—stood up to.

"Shut up," William told it under his breath as he sat at his desk. "You're fine."

As Henry promised, the party finished quickly and they were home before lunch.

Elizabeth had talked the entire way home, about the rabbit and her magic hands, and Nicholas ate up every word. Henry politely asked questions about how her magic hands worked and made sure she was being safe, which she happily answered. He glanced at William, who didn't comment. He didn't want to hear about Elizabeth's hands or how much the rabbit liked them. He stared out the window, saw it was starting to rain, and thought about Mike and Charlie's hiking trip. He screwed his thumb through the gauze on his injured hand again, just to remind the rabbit who was boss. It didn't like that and made William feel nauseated in retaliation. Henry glanced over and William stopped but wasn't quite fast enough.

So much had happened, the house seemed to reflect it as well. It looked older, as though the light blue paint on the outside had faded and the grass in the yard had grown longer. William felt like he also had grown longer, leaner, more faded.

Elizabeth hung on his arm as they walked inside. She detailed how she was going to make them both chocolate milk and then they would draw pictures together on the coffee table for the rest of the day. She reached up to pet his head as she spoke and William wanted to lean over to let her, but instead, he snatched her wrist away from him. Everyone stopped and Elizabeth stood meaningfully still, as though she wasn't sure what he was going to do to her. William quickly let go and clutched his hand to his chest to forcibly control it.

"Sorry, Lizzie, I…" Henry was staring at him and William realized he had done something very bad. "I'm gonna go change." With that, he hurried upstairs and shut himself in his bedroom.

He locked the door and listened to make sure Henry wasn't going to come after him. He peeled off his soiled polo shirt, wadded it in a ball and, in a fit of impulsiveness, chucked it out the second-story window. He meant to put on a clean shirt, wash his face, and go downstairs to apologize properly, but instead, he climbed wearily under the covers of the queen-sized bed and fell asleep. Henry came to check on him but when he heard snoring, he left him alone.

William dreamed of Jan, his ex-wife. They were at the park together but they were sitting at different picnic tables and no matter how he called, Jan wouldn't look at him. He realized they weren't in a park at all, but a cemetery. Gravestones sprouted up everywhere: big ones by the lake, medium ones under the trees, tiny ones under his dress shoes like dandelions. "I told you," Jan said to the lake, red in the sunset. Her disappointment enveloped him like a springlock suit; it staked him in place.

William awoke, sweaty and short of breath, to knocking on his door. He pulled his head out from under the covers; his room was hot from the setting sun coming in the west-facing window. The rain had already come and gone. "Yeah?" he called, sitting up.

"It's getting late." It was Henry. "Can I come in?"

William glanced at his open window, at the shadows forming around his bed. "One second," he sighed. He pulled on an old Freddy's t-shirt and unlocked the door. Henry glanced around him, as if expecting someone else to be in there with him. "Took a nap," William said, shutting the door behind him. "Fucking rabbit doesn't let me get any rest." He stopped by the bathroom, wiped the black blood off with a washcloth and combed his bedhead into a respectable, if greasy, quiff. His black eye was green around the socket and looked worse than it had that morning, but William knew from experience it meant it was healing.

Henry stood in the doorway, watching. "Did it help?" he asked. William shrugged in reply as he rinsed out the washcloth. The dream had made him feel bad in a whole different way, but he didn't have the energy or time to get into it with Henry.

"Is Elizabeth okay?" Will asked.

"Oh yeah," Henry replied, waving him away, telling him not to worry about it. "She knows it wasn't you. She's downstairs getting everything ready."

"The, um, the chocolate milk and the coloring…?"

"The blanket and restraints in your lab."

William gave him a bewildered look, trying to piece together what he was saying. "Henry, no," he said. "She shouldn't be…no. She shouldn't see that. She should be playing outside, enjoying her summer, not worrying about…"

"She insisted," replied Henry. "Also, we want to try something tonight. We have an idea of how to stop your transformation."

"I'm all ears," said William. "But it better not have anything to do with Lizzie's 'magic hands.'" He looked up to read Henry's expression; Henry's mouth was in a tight line and it was clear William had guessed perfectly. "Chrissakes, Henry." He threw the washcloth at him and stormed out.

"You'll be drugged, tied up, muzzled," Henry protested as he followed him down the stairs. "And if it doesn't work, I'll get her out right away." William stomped down the stairs into the first basement. "We have to try something," Henry continued. "And it's the only thing we've found that works even a little bit."

William spun to face Henry and Henry jerked backward. "I would rather transform every night for the rest of my life than let Elizabeth do something so stupidly dangerous," he spat. "You wouldn't have suggested it if it was Charlie." He crossed the room to the door to the second basement.

"It is dangerous," Henry admitted in a soft, hurt way that made William stop. "But it's more dangerous to let this go on."

William squeezed the doorknob hard. He wanted to tell Henry what the toothy spirit had said, but he couldn't make his mouth form the words. If Henry knew there wasn't a cure and this was going to last the rest of William's life, he might take Charlie and leave; he might take William's children and hide them somewhere far away. He'd take Freddy's from him, too, and William would never see any of them ever again. He pictured himself alone and gray, sitting in the basement, waiting for his fifteen-thousandth transformation to start. William couldn't bear the thought.

"The answer is no," Will said as he opened the door. "Don't bring it up again."

Elizabeth was at the top of the stairs when William opened the door, her eyes sparkling with purpose. "Hi, Daddy!" she greeted and gave him a hug. "You're wearing the Foxy shirt."

William looked down and realized that yes, he was. They had made a run of screen printed t-shirts a while back, featuring different animatronics on the front. For whatever reason, the Foxy ones hadn't sold well, so a lot of stock ended up in William and Henry and the kids' closets. Perhaps, with his jagged teeth and his menacing glare, they had drawn Foxy a little too scary for a t-shirt design. "I am," he said.

"I like that one," said Elizabeth.

"I know." William kissed the top of her head and stepped around her on the stairs. "Be a good girl and go upstairs with your brother," he said looking around at the basement. Elizabeth had decorated. She had drawn pictures and taped them to the walls so the basement looked less prison-like. The old blanket was spread out on the floor with the bloody side face down and she had placed the Bonnie and Baby plushes lovingly in the center. The muzzle and pills and a glass of water were sitting on the desk, as well as the rope, which she had laid out in the shape of a heart. There was a card on the rope she had made, colored with crayon, that showed herself and a tall upright yellow rabbit holding hands under a rainbow. William covered his mouth to stop it from trembling.

"But Uncle Henry said—"

"I know what he said." William glanced up at Henry coming down the stairs. "But he changed his mind and he agrees with me that it's too…um…it's…to have you down here when I…um, when…when I…" He couldn't think of the word for it. What did he do and what was wrong with it? Thinking was getting more difficult, as though his head was filling with sand, which meant time was short. He could feel the change seeping into his muscles, rotting them, giving off toxic fumes.

Henry noticed. He hurried over and guided William to sit down. "Elizabeth, could you please hand me your dad's medicine and the water?" Elizabeth obeyed and Henry dropped two pills into William's hand. William's heart was squeezing tighter than a fist and he felt like it might burst. This wasn't new anymore, but he still couldn't believe what was coming. He quickly washed the pills down and closed his eyes, willing them to take effect before the true change began.

"I know your dad said no, but would you do this for me? Just for a little bit?" Henry asked Elizabeth privately. She agreed just as quietly. Henry told her to bring over the rope and muzzle and sit beside William. "Please, just let her try," he said before William could refuse. William was working hard trying to process what was going on and during his hesitation, Henry bound his hands and feet and tied the rope tight around the leg of his desk, not that it would restrain the rabbit for long. One strong yank from the rabbit and the desk leg would snap off.

Elizabeth set her hand purposefully on William's head. "No, no, no, it's not gonna work," William protested. His brain was on fire and he was starting to feel woozy from the sedative. He should have taken the pills with food.

"Not with that attitude," Henry said smiling, trying to sound playful but Will could tell Henry was just as worried as him. "Hold still." He fit the muzzle over William's face and made sure the back was loose enough to accommodate the rabbit's head when it grew. William averted his gaze, ears burning; he hated that his daughter was seeing him like this.

But it didn't seem to faze Elizabeth. "Try, Daddy," she said, stroking the top of his head.

William took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He flexed his hands in the restraints behind his back and tried to focus on the sensation of Elizabeth's hand. He felt the rabbit under the surface latching onto his bones and brain, pausing, contemplating. You like that, you stupid beast? he asked it. Maybe they were doing it, maybe this could work. Elizabeth told him he was doing good, that he was a good bunny. Stay down, he told it, shaking from the strain, but it ignored him. He felt the rabbit expanding like the tide, reaching up and out. A chill rushed over him and he knew he was losing the battle. William clamped his mouth shut and squeezed his eyes closed harder.

"'s not working…" he mumbled but Elizabeth kept petting. His heart began to pound and sweat ran down his back. The rabbit was excited; it wanted out. He felt his body getting hotter and building pressure like a bomb ready to go off. He held onto his brain with all his strength but it wasn't enough.

His grip slipped. The rabbit rushed to the surface like a train, like water bursting through a dam. "Not working!" he cried out.

Henry grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and yanked her out of reach just as William snapped at her, missed, and fell on his face. He struggled to right himself as he watched Henry pull Elizabeth up the stairs. They shut the door and he heard them talking behind it; he heard Henry thank her and apologize. And was Elizabeth hurt? Had she been hurt at all? No, she hadn't. Just a little shaken.

The rabbit continued to push against William from all sides until he finally broke. The transformation was painful, messy, but it wasn't as bad as the night before. The rabbit didn't feel as frightened or angry as it had been other nights; tonight, it seemed content to crack him open once, head to toe, and emerge like a moth from a cocoon. Horrifically, thought William, they were both getting better at it.

—

The rabbit didn't like the ropes or the muzzle. They cut into him and made it impossible to lay comfortably. Not that he wanted to lay down. He wanted to find the human, the nice one, the girl. He wanted to know where she had gone and what she was up to. He pulled at his restrained arms behind his back that had been twisted painfully. He pulled and pulled and pulled and—what were those things sitting across from him on the blanket? He pressed his tall ears back, reached his dripping nose toward the plushies and inhaled. They were gifts from the girl. The gifts from last night. But no, he couldn't get distracted. Pull, yank, pull.

The desk screeched and toppled over, creating enough slack for him to get one hand free. With that, he was able to work himself out of his other restraints. He hooked his claws in the muzzle's metal grate, pulled until the leather straps broke, and lifted it off his snout. He stood up and popped his shoulders, then crouched and pressed his nose into the stuffed animals. He liked how they smelled very much. But where was the girl?

The rabbit followed her scent up the stairs to the door. He scratched at it, rammed it with his shoulder, but it didn't budge. He was hungry. So, so, so hungry. And thirsty and lonely and where was that girl?

He pressed his nose to the crack in the door and moaned, hoping she would hear him and come let him out. But she didn't. He gnawed unsuccessfully on the doorknob for a moment before giving up. He sniffed all around the room, hoping to find food hidden somewhere, but didn't find any, so he went back to the blanket. He was getting tired—very, very tired—and he was starting to feel wobbly on his feet, so he lay down. He lay his head on the stuffed animals, inhaling their scent, and let out another weak call for the girl.

It felt like forever, but she did come. And she was carrying food in a paper bag. When she saw his glassy eyes locked onto her, she stopped at the top of the stairs. The rabbit was too tired to get up all the way, but his ears shot up and his tail bounced happily. The girl hadn't abandoned him.

She approached him carefully, glancing back at the door the whole time. She said something he didn't understand then reached into the bag and pulled out a French fry. The rabbit pushed up onto his hands and extended his long neck toward her. She held out the fry and finally, his teeth closed around it and he pulled it into his mouth. The taste made his whiskers stand on end and reminded him just how hungry he was; he didn't remember anything ever tasting so good in his life. The thought crossed his mind that he could eat her—she would probably taste sweet—but he really didn't want to if he didn't have to. She offered another fry and he took it. She continued until the bag was empty, which she proved by turning it upside down and letting him stick his nose in it just to make sure.

Feeling satisfied and a little less anxious, the rabbit settled back onto the blanket to continue his nap. The girl slowly sat down next to him, a big smile on her face, and leaned against his side. She petted his ears and stroked his whiskers, which made them twitch but he didn't pull away. She rested her head against his ribs and said something, her voice humming in his bones.

They stayed like that for a while, listening to each other breathe. Eventually, she whispered something, kissed the top of his head—she still smelled like French fries—and hurried back to the stairs. The rabbit whimpered and struggled to all fours but by the time he took his first swaying step, she had already disappeared through the door. He went to the stairs, but his limbs were too heavy to climb them, so he lay down and groaned loudly and unhappily, hoping she would feel guilty and come back. But she didn't.

—

William was shivering when he woke up the next morning. He was naked, lying by the stairs on the ice-cold concrete, and had new dark bruises circling his wrists and ankles. Looking around the room, he saw the restraints had been broken and pushed under his upended desk. He thought about knocking on the door for Henry to let him out, but he didn't want to talk to that traitor, so instead, he shuffled stiffly to the center of the room, wrapped himself in the blanket and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke, someone was sitting on his back: or rather, two small someones in flannel pajamas, bouncing excitedly and giggling at how clever they were to get past Henry. "Wake up, Daddy!" said Elizabeth. "It's morning!" added Nicholas. "We want breakfast!" "Yeah, breakfast!" Each bounce forced the air out of his lungs and pushed his ribs into the concrete but he couldn't bring himself to be angry, not when he had been so lonely. Using each bounce to his advantage, he slowly turned over, wrestled his arms free from the blanket, and wrapped them around his assailants and tackled them to the floor. They squealed in delighted surprise and tried to push him off.

"Breakfast?" he teased, his voice weak and gravelly from a tough night. "Can't you make breakfast for your poor old dad?"

"You're not poor, just old," said Elizabeth. "And dirty."

William laughed uncomfortably. "Hey," he said, "if you bring me clothes, I'll make you French toast. How about it?"

Elizabeth and Nicholas jumped up and scrambled up the stairs. William wondered what clothes they would choose for him but decided anything would be better than this blanket; he probably should have been more specific, though. He sat up with a groan and tucked the blanket around him. What the hell was Henry doing letting Lizzie and Nick down here before he knew it was safe? And what if William had still been lying exposed on the floor? Didn't Henry care?

After a while, Nick and Lizzie came back down with a white tank top and the red corduroy trousers he had worn a few Christmases ago. Why they didn't just pick some clothes for him up off the floor or something at the top of his dresser drawers, William didn't know, but he suspected they had spent a fair amount of time digging in his closet and drawers for something they liked. Oh well, he thought, the clothes were good enough for now. He thanked them and sent them upstairs so he could change. When he went upstairs, feeling like a half-dressed mall Santa, Henry was stretching at his desk and wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He'd been asleep? Really? This whole time?

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," William said flatly.

Henry caught sight of William's outfit and chuckled. "Morning, Capone," he said.

"Thanks for guarding the door," William retorted. "Nothing gets past you. Oh, except two of my children, Henry. Twice." He crossed his arms, irritated. "What happened to the padlock? You said you were going to install one."

"I did," Henry mused, looking up at the door. Together, they saw that the padlock was still snapped closed, but the metal bar that kept the door locked had been unscrewed from the doorframe.

William would have been proud to see Elizabeth expressing such ingenuity—for he knew it was Elizabeth and not Nick—in any way other than this. She was an intelligent girl, always able to find loopholes that allowed her to do what William forbade her from doing. It was endearing—she reminded him a lot of himself at her age—but endlessly frustrating being unable to stop her from doing things. And yet, he didn't have the heart to punish her for it; he hated having to punish his kids.

Henry was laughing to himself and shaking his head, clearly less worried about this than William. "Maybe I should weld the door shut every night," he said. "I'd like to see Lizzie figure that one out."

"It isn't funny," William said.

"No, it isn't," Henry admitted, wrapping his arm around William's shoulders. "But I'm tired of crying about it."

William peeled his arm off. "How lucky for you," he said.

"Come on, lighten up a bit."

"While you're laughing about it, the rabbit's going to kill my kids. Should I lighten up then? You're the one who said we need to play it safe but you keep sleeping on the job."

Henry looked at his feet. "Sorry. I'm not trying to fall asleep," he said. "I'm on your side and we'll solve this. You know that, right?"

William was silent for a moment, glaring at him, fuming. He heard Elizabeth and Nicholas talking upstairs in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around, maybe trying to surprise their dirty old dad with breakfast. "It's forever," he said almost inaudibly. It came out like a sudden chill. He hadn't meant to say it and he was just as surprised to hear it come out of his own mouth. He watched Henry desperately, not sure whether he was hoping he had or hadn't heard it. Henry looked up and met his eyes; he didn't ask him to repeat himself.

"The rabbit," Will continued, squeezing his injured hand, making the rabbit's anger surface. "There isn't…" He couldn't finish, afraid the despair would drag him under. Henry couldn't stay up every night for the rest of William's life. They couldn't let the rabbit stay in the house with the kids night after night. It couldn't go on forever, and yet it would; William was so tired, so, so tired, and he felt like he was being pulled apart at the seams.

He didn't want to argue anymore and neither did Henry. "Don't give up," said Henry. "We'll…"

William climbed the stairs before he finished. He grabbed his jacket with his keys and wallet in the pockets hanging on the coat rack by the door, slipped his shoes on, climbed into the station wagon, and peeled out of the driveway. He didn't know where he was going but he was gasping for air and he had to go somewhere people wouldn't look at him like a massacre waiting to happen before he suffocated.

—

William drove first to the seven-eleven and bought a six-pack of beer while the cashier eyed his blood-smeared face and bruised wrists suspiciously, then he drove to the wildlife reserve, fifteen square miles of undisturbed marshes, lakes, and poorly-tended hiking trails. He parked crooked in the gravel across the only two parking spots, took his beer, and headed for the lake. The reserve wasn't a popular place for outdoorsy folk since the larger network of hiking trails had been opened on the other side of town. Even in the heat of summer, these trails were wet and smelly with algae and skunk cabbage and in his whole life, William had only come across a fellow hiker twice before.

When he was still in high school and living with his mother and piece-of-shit father, he found a small lake in the center with a tiny rotted dock and a pussy willow tree hanging over it. It was quiet, serene, with fuzzy seed pods floating on the surface like miniature boats. He swam there on many occasions, letting all thoughts of his father and bullies and stress sink to the bottom with the reeds. It was his lake, only his; not even Henry knew where it was.

William fought through the underbrush, tearing his arms on thorn bushes and scratchy branches. He swatted constantly at mosquitos and ants and bees, worried for a moment that he had gotten turned around because the trail he took had gotten so overgrown this summer, but then he climbed over the fir tree roots with the rows of red ants and broke into the clearing. There it sat, like an altar, like a den, like a mother with her arms outstretched for him. With shoes sloshing, humid, and full of swamp water, he stumbled through the grass and stepped onto the dock. The sun had bleached it and lichen was growing underneath, slowly eating away at the wood. Eventually, the wood would be too weak to support him, but today, he walked to the edge, took off his shoes, thrust his feet into the pleasantly cool water, and cracked open a beer. He knew he shouldn't be drinking, he had promised Henry he wouldn't, but what did it matter anymore; his life was already ruined.

He finished one and opened another. He drank it in one gulp and lay back on the dock, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. The day was heating up quickly and he smelled himself starting to sweat through his clothes. He shouldn't be able to smell himself so acutely, but the fucking rabbit…

That fucking rabbit. He picked up a piece of splintered wood and pressed it into his leg. Panic jumped in his chest so fast the air was knocked from his lungs and it took a few moments to draw in breath again. It wasn't a normal response to pain and he knew it was the rabbit panicking, feeling wronged and bullied, as though it had never done anything to William to deserve it. William screwed the wood deeper and felt something give: the fabric of his pants, his skin, or both. Hopefully both.

His bones felt superheated and he wondered if they'd glow in the dark. They were pulling, the rabbit was pulling and growling at him, threatening that if he kept it up, it was going to hurt him back. Do your worst, you stupid animal, he thought as he opened a third beer. See if I care. He gave the wood a twist just to prove his point.

He was starting to feel nauseated and feverish but he ignored it. He slipped his tank top over his head, clumsily kicked out of his pants, and slid into the water up to his chin. When he did, a new wave of panic swept over him that locked his limbs; his heart pounded and he was suddenly afraid that he would drown but it wasn't him, it was the rabbit. William was an excellent swimmer, so even though his bones were on fire, his head was heavy as lead, and black blood had begun to drip down his face, he kicked away from the dock and floated to the center of the pond.

Moving his limbs was becoming increasingly difficult as the rabbit wanted back to shore, terrified to be so far from solid ground. "Not so tough now, huh?" he scoffed. He held his breath and ducked under the water for a moment and came back up. He washed off the black blood with his hands. "Thought you were my punishment." He ducked back under, for longer this time. It was all he could do not to inhale water with his lungs spasming, but the rabbit's fear made him smile. He popped back up and washed more black blood off his face; there was so much of it now. "Can't—" He took in a breath. His bones were screaming. "—handle a little water?"

His spine snapped in half. He gasped and arched back.

He dipped underwater, came back up coughing. His spine was growing, his ribs were breaking, his legs and arms and neck were elongating, and his face was splitting, spilling blood into the water.

He flailed, panicking, there was no way he could swim like this; there was no way he was changing during the day!

"Hey," he spluttered, "stop!" There was no stopping it. The rabbit needed out and William was losing his grip.

He thrashed, trying to keep his head above water, trying to get to the dock even as he forgot how to swim. He couldn't breathe, even when his nose was in the air. His body was growing heavier and he felt it sinking like a bag of sand.

You'll kill us both! he told it, no longer able to form the words with his snout full of sharp teeth. He was getting tangled in his ears as his long, spindly arms grasped helplessly for the dock.

Please stop, he begged the rabbit. I'll stop hurting you, please don't, not now… He inhaled water and coughed. He could smell his own fear, the sogginess of his fur, the metallic sting of the black blood. He couldn't keep his head above the water any longer and he lashed his arms out blindly, searching for the dock.

Please, he thought, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry…

Finally, the rabbit's claws hit a wooden post and grabbed onto it. He pulled his head above the water and pulled himself up onto the dock, gasping and shaking, his heart pounding so fast it was almost vibrating.

The rabbit shook the water from his fur and stretched out on his stomach on the warm wood. He kept his eyes open wide and his nose moved nonstop, breathing in short bursts that matched his heartbeat. The rabbit didn't want to go anywhere or do anything, but he couldn't trust his other form not to drown them both, so he held on tight, even though it was during the day and that wasn't the deal.

He lay there a long time without moving. Sunning himself. Watching for predators. Trying to calm down.

William didn't know when it started to happen, but eventually, he regained control of his mind. His limbs began to shrink and his bones knit back together. Everything on his face and head that wasn't supposed to be there retreated inward and his body became his again. He lay on his face, heaving from the strain, his whole body pounding like a headache, and he realized he'd never changed back while conscious before. It wasn't something he cared to repeat, but he was glad there didn't seem to be any evidence that the rabbit had left the dock. And, judging by the location of the sun in the sky, he hadn't been transformed for more than an hour.

He pressed his forehead into the musty boards, feeling the sun shining hard on his naked back; he hoped it would burn him. It would serve him right for being so stupid. He might have killed someone. He might have gotten into town and killed someone and he had no one to blame but himself, not even the rabbit.

The rabbit was a stupid animal, a dangerous one, but that's all it was. It was scared and violent but it was just an animal acting out and it was clear to him now that it didn't like transforming any more than he did. There was no reasoning with it, only managing it and the sooner he got started, the better. He didn't know what managing it would look like, but he suspected it wouldn't include driving sticks into its legs.

"Sorry," he croaked out, his throat raw from coughing. "You win. I'll stop. 'm sorry." Then he dragged himself to the side of the dock and threw up, as if apologizing had made him sick rather than the alcohol and adrenaline.

* * *

A/N: And after that, all was well between William and the rabbit and they never fought again. Just kidding. It's a little more complicated than that.

We're getting close to the end of this rabbit tale. :) I hope you've been enjoying it so far and thank you for all the support!


	8. What the Rabbit Wants

Henry sat at his desk in his lab, his hand scrunched in his own hair, trying to tally up the restaurant expenses for the month while flipping constantly between whether he should wait for Will to come home on his own or whether he should go find him and make sure he hadn't driven the car into a lake or started tearing down displays in the supermarket. When Elizabeth and Nicholas had asked Henry where their dad had gone, he had assured them that William just needed a little alone time and that he'd be back soon, refreshed. The Afton kids weren't happy with that answer, but they accepted it as gracefully as elementary schoolers could and Henry made chocolate chip pancakes to distract them.

Henry wished he could believe that William was all right and that he'd return soon, but the truth was that there was no telling where William's head was that morning. Even before he had the rabbit venom coursing through his circulatory system, he had a bad habit of running off and performing low-level criminal acts to blow off steam. Henry had found more than a couple pairs of jeans stuffed in the laundry hamper with the security clips still lodged in the waistbands, and a backpack full of spray paint cans that were dirty and well-worn that Henry had never seen him use. Henry wondered what he had tagged and how; he pictured Will using the goofy rabbit he doodled everywhere to tag playgrounds, the sides of buildings, and police cruisers.

Henry waited an hour, then two, punching numbers into his accounting calculator, losing his place or typing in the same number twice and having to start all over again. William's words before he left played repeatedly in his head like a tape recording: "It's forever." Henry knew exactly what William had meant, but he forced himself to come up with alternate theories. Perhaps he was just venting his frustration, feeling like this problem was never going to end. Or maybe he meant that he wasn't going to give up until it was solved, even if it took him forever. But deep down, Henry knew it wasn't the case, because the "It's forever" realization had been slowly sneaking through the backdoor of his mind as well. Mutations could not be undone and William's cells that had been bent out of shape had already replicated themselves a million times by now without correcting. If William's body was mutated enough to physically change into another species, Henry feared, like Will, that the change might be permanent. Henry took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

Charlie came down the stairs. "Want me to start lunch?" she asked carefully.

"I got it," he said, standing up. He glanced at his watch as he and Charlie walked back up the stairs. They'd had a late breakfast and it was nearly two. Mike had Perry Mason on in the den and had a novel on his lap, but he was staring out the front window, not paying attention to either of them. Elizabeth and Nicholas were out back hacking away at each other with paper-towel-roll swords and garbage can lid shields.

"Should we call the police or something?" Charlie asked quietly. Henry looked back at her and saw her with her arms crossed uncomfortably, staring out the front window, wondering along with everyone else where William had gone.

Henry put on a smile and gave her a quick hug. "I'm sure he's fine," he said. "If he's not back by dinnertime, I'll call a cab and check out his favorite haunts. Don't worry." Charlie relented and sat at the kitchen table while Henry pulled out a pot and two cans of tomato soup.

Charlie and Mike had gotten in last night after William had already transformed, traipsing in with paper bags of fast food as though they hadn't stayed out past curfew. Henry hadn't had it in him to scold her—truth be told, he had hardly noticed—but she had apologized anyway and Michael had looked sick to death with worry. He had kicked off his shoes and hurried down the stairs to go check on William; he would have opened the door if Henry hadn't physically stopped him. Mike and Charlie hadn't talked much since coming home; Henry wondered if something had happened. He made a note to ask Charlie about it once things calmed down a bit.

As Henry set a row of cheese sandwiches on the griddle, car lights refracted through the front door window; Michael stumbled up from the couch faster than his legs could take him and he all but tripped out onto the front porch. Henry turned off the griddle and hurried to the front door, himself, wiping his buttery hands on his pants. Sure enough, it was the station wagon and William was behind the wheel. He wasn't covered in blood anymore, but his clothes were dirty, his hair stuck up in odd directions, and he looked even more wan and haunted than he had before he left.

William turned off the engine and fumbled with his things a long time before getting out of the car. Mike asked him where he'd gone and William mumbled something unintelligible that amounted to: "Don't worry about it." After attempting and failing to wrestle a few more words out of his father, Michael retreated slowly into the house, maybe to find Charlie or tell his younger siblings their dad was home.

When Mike left, William stood alone in the driveway, his eyes darting to and away from Henry, as though he was afraid to stare too long. He scratched at his injured hand but he didn't squeeze it in the oddly vindictive way he had been lately. He stood there hugging himself awkwardly like something fragile, something broken, like the time they had put a hydraulic chamber that was too big into one of the animatronics and the pressure from the outer casing had squeezed it until it cracked. Henry closed the distance between them, meaning to just get a little nearer so he wasn't shouting from the porch, but the closer he got to his friend, the more broken he looked, and he ended up wrapping his arms around him in a long, wordless embrace. Stiff and unresponsive at first, William eventually lifted and wrapped his arms around Henry and rested his forehead on his shoulder. He breathed deeply in a lopsided, hitching way that made his stomach muscles contract. His hands shook in the back of Henry's shirt and Henry smelled beer on his breath. Whatever had happened had carved William out like a cantaloupe.

When William's chest stopped heaving and his fingers stopped digging into Henry's back, Henry patted him affectionately and rested his hands on his shoulders. "Want coffee?" he asked.

William nodded, wiping his nose and looking around. "Decaf," he said. "I feel a little…" He shook his hands like he was shaking them dry. "And then we need to talk. But…I'm not sure how to put it into words."

Henry didn't know what William was going to say but they'd had so little good news these days that Henry anticipated it being bad. "I'll make two cups," he said. "We can take them up to my room. Have some privacy."

"Privacy's a thing of the past, Henry," said William, giving him a mournful pat on the shoulder. "For me, anyway." Henry waited for him to elaborate, but he headed inside without another word. Henry followed him, puzzled and more than a little alarmed, trying to figure out whether the statement sounded like pre-transformation lunacy or William's ordinary human brand of it; it was impossible to tell anymore.

William went through to the back door to see his children while Henry made the coffee. Charlie had turned the stove and griddle back on and was finishing up lunch. Henry thanked her and gave her a quick side hug. They listened in silence to the dripping of the coffeemaker and the sizzling of the griddle. They could hear William's voice drifting through the open door. He was saying something fast and quiet to his kids; if Henry didn't know better, he'd think he was apologizing to them.

"Is he okay?" Charlie asked quietly so William wouldn't hear.

Henry glanced out the door at William crouched on the edge of the deck with Elizabeth and Nicholas listening to him intently. "I hope so," he replied. William got up with difficulty and turned to come back inside; Henry quickly looked back to the coffeemaker.

"Is it done yet?" William asked when he came back in.

"Almost," said Henry. William lounged against the refrigerator and watched the coffee pot fill.

"Hi, Uncle Will," greeted Charlie.

"Hi, Charlie," William replied without looking up.

"You good?" she asked.

William dragged his eyes up to meet hers and smiled, even though everything in his face wanted to frown. "No." He took a mug out of the cupboard. "It's close enough, Henry," he said as he poured himself some coffee. He stirred in two spoons of sugar but no milk. "We need to get a move on. We have a lot to talk about." He walked upstairs without looking back.

Henry poured his own coffee more slowly and sighed. He started getting plates out for the kids but Charlie took the stack from him. "I got this, Dad," she said.

"Thanks, Charlotte," said Henry. Charlie turned the sandwiches on the griddle. "It's been so crazy the last few days…" Charlie pointed at the stairs with the spatula and finally, Henry took his coffee upstairs to whatever horrific revelation awaited him.

When he entered the bedroom, William was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to the door, sipping his coffee and gazing out the window. Henry was about to announce his presence but stopped when William squeezed his trembling hand into a fist and pressed it into the bed. "Calm the hell down, will you?" William said under his breath. "I'm doing my best here." At first, Henry thought Will was talking to him, but then he considered that he might be talking to himself. That seemed a little odd, though, since in all their years working together, Henry had never heard William address himself as though he was another person. His self-talk didn't extend much beyond phrases like, "Where did I put my socket wrench?" and "They're gonna love this." He never called himself "you."

Henry rapped his knuckles gently on the doorframe and William whipped around, a strange glint in his eye. His shoulders relaxed and he turned back to the window. Henry sat beside him and stared out the window as well. It was a hot day, a beautiful blue sky, with heat rippling from rooftops like silk.

"So," said Henry, turning the cup in his hands.

William nodded as though Henry had said something profound. "So," he answered. He was squeezing the cup hard. It was clear William wanted to talk but was having trouble knowing what to say.

"About what you said," Henry continued carefully. "In the basement." He waited for William to offer input but he just continued staring out the window. He didn't want to push him too hard, but like Will said, they had a lot to talk about and not much time to talk about it. "It sounded like, correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounded like you think there isn't a cure."

"There isn't," William said quietly. "I know there isn't."

"How?"

"Because it told me." His voice cracked when he said it. William was determined not to look at Henry but even as he scowled, trying to toughen up, Henry saw a tear escape, which William quickly wiped away. "I haven't been completely honest with you, Henry. I didn't want you to think I was…" He wiped another tear away with more force, irritated that they kept coming. "A lost cause or too much trouble or too dangerous to keep around or—"

"Hey." Henry put his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder. "If going to those discos you hosted in college…" The shadow of a smile tugged at William's downturned lips. "And watching you eat uncooked hamburger out of a mug didn't scare me off…" Henry smiled encouragingly. "You think this bunny thing can?"

William wiped his nose. "You weren't supposed to remember that," he said.

"Oh, I remember," said Henry. "Vividly."

"You wore those white, very tight shorts to my discos," said William. "And if I remember right, when I asked if you wanted a taste of my genius salted-hamburger-cuppa—"

Henry made a gagging sound. William stopped talking but he was smiling now and looking directly at him, trepidation fading. William took in a deep breath and let it out to clear the remaining jitters.

"You're not going to believe me," he said. Henry took a long sip of coffee and settled in as if for a story. William shook his head and laughed quietly at the theatrics. "Fine," he said. "Well…so…I thought I heard something in the vent…"

William told Henry everything and, as he had warned, it sounded unbelievable. He told of a disembodied voice in a vent, an apparition with sharp teeth in the parts and services room, a punishment from the future, an animal born into the world that could not be unborn, a beast that lashed out when it felt threatened. If he had told Henry this in any other context, Henry would have assumed he was trying to prank him. But instead, he believed every word; he believed the way William spoke and squeezed his hands together, taking long pauses and looking away, the way he repeated himself, forgetting details, circling back to explain things he skipped over, cheeks turning red as his shoulders raised as if to hide, ashamed, embarrassed, guilty for something that wasn't his fault. Henry listened quietly, speaking up only to ask clarifying questions as William spoke, resentful and surrendered, about managing an ongoing condition, about taking care of an animal that showed no sign of expiring before he did.

"I'm a hybrid freak," finished William, smiling a wide smile that looked sadder than his frown. "I'm a monster. I think…maybe I already was one before this even happened. Everything that irritates or stresses me out activates the rabbit and if I don't deal with it in time, I change."

Henry looked at his reflection in his coffee. "Did you…" He trailed off but William knew what he was asking.

William gave a long, chagrined sigh. "For a little bit."

They listened together to the sound of a garden hose spraying against metal, their next-door neighbor washing their car in their driveway.

"So, you know what triggers the change," Henry spoke up. "We can work with that. I've been reading this book—"

William groaned. "If you tell me one more time about my 'inner child,' Henry, I swear to god—"

Henry had brought up the concept several times with William in the past, partially because he thought it would help him, but partially just because he found the concept of metaphorically splitting your psyche into two halves that care for each other fascinating. Henry had found it a helpful tool in working through the feelings of helplessness he'd struggled with his whole life and he mentioned it to Will because he knew William struggled with feeling unloveable. He thought it might help him to compartmentalize that part of him. He never expected such a literal compartmentalization to happen, though.

"I'll lay off," promised Henry. "But the rabbit reacts to stimuli. Have you thought about what it wants?"

"To punish me," replied William.

"Not what the spirit wants," corrected Henry. "The rabbit. You said, yourself, it doesn't like irritation or stress. Doesn't that mean it wants comfort and…" He motioned vaguely with his hands. "…serenity, of some sort?"

William laughed derisively and stood up to face the window. "I'll just do that, Henry," he said. "Thanks for the tip. Just get rid of everything that is uncomfortable and stressful. Well, I've never been more stressed in my life, and the rabbit's the cause of it. I'm never going to have 'serenity' while it's around, which means I'm never going to get to relax for the rest of my fucking life—"

He doubled over suddenly and clutched his stomach, coffee cup falling and spilling on the floor. Henry jumped to his feet and hovered nearby but he was afraid to touch him. William was breathing hard and clenching his teeth in pain. A visible chill ran up his arms and the back of his neck; it almost looked like fur rising.

"Will, what's going on?" Henry asked, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

"What do you think, idiot?" William snapped, shooting him a glare. His eyes were reflective silver disks. His glare disappeared in a wince of pain and he took a knee on the floor.

"Deep breaths, Will," said Henry, kneeling beside him. "What does it want?"

"T-t-to kill me," William said, panicked.

"It's just an animal," said Henry. "You said it, yourself. It's just an animal. It's just trying to protect itself. Maybe your anger scares it."

"It started it," William wheezed, squeezing his gut harder. "Oh god…"

"And you can finish it," Henry insisted. He had a spark of inspiration. "Think of it like a dog. It's a dog, and you're Lizzie. What would she do if she found a scared dog?"

William breathed painfully and curled further in on himself. He was fighting off the transformation with everything he had. They were too far away from the basement; they'd never make it in time. Whatever was going on, they had to solve it upstairs.

"I can't…" William breathed.

"What would she do?" Henry pressed.

William paused, trying to get hold of himself. "Talk to it," he finally answered.

"And what would she say?"

"She…" He paused again, squeezed himself hard. Black blood was dripping onto the carpet and Henry knew it was going to stain. "She'd tell it…" Gasp. "not to be scared."

"And then?"

"Pet it? I don't know." He winced. "No, that's later. First, she'd—" He inhaled sharply. Henry thought he saw William's shoulder blades shift in a way they weren't designed to. "She'd…get low…small…crouch down and…her hand, she'd…put out her hand and she'd…wait…" William stopped talking and seemed to be focusing on his breathing. He had his eyes screwed tightly closed, both arms still wrapped tightly across his middle. He looked like he was fighting off the urge to be sick or faint. But Henry knew what he was really doing; he was waiting, he was crouching, perhaps even with a metaphorical hand outstretched, telling the rabbit not to be scared.

"You can do it," Henry said quietly, wondering if he needed to get up and lock the door. William shushed him, eyes still closed.

He was breathing more deliberately now, slower and more forcefully, almost as though he was breathing for someone else, showing them how to calm down. There kneeling on the floor, breathing and bleeding and frowning in concentration, Henry thought William had never looked more mature, more responsible.

They stayed like that for a long time: fifteen minutes, perhaps longer. Henry was about to shift his sitting position because his legs were going to sleep when William's breathing softened, his muscles loosened and he slid slowly to the floor. Henry moved to catch him, but he wasn't falling, just lying down, exhausted, making a black bloody imprint of the side of his face in Henry's carpet. He lay on his side and stared ahead, sweat beading on his brow, his narrow chest heaving in a strangely animalistic way.

"Did it work?" asked Henry.

William nodded against the carpet and closed his eyes. "Just barely," he answered weakly.

Henry smiled and patted William gently on the shoulder. "What did you say to it?" he asked.

"Told it to stop freaking out," said William. "That I wasn't going to shoot it or drown it or anything. Crap like that." The neighbor turned their hose off. A few seconds later, they dumped the bucket of soapy water in the street where it would be washed down the storm drain. "That's a lie," confessed William. "I repeated that inner child shit you keep feeding me. 'You're safe now. I'll take care of you.' I was desperate." He chuckled softly to himself and it came out like a gurgle. Henry couldn't help chuckling with him; he lay down on the floor and faced him. "Jesus," William moaned pitifully. "Ouch…"

"But you did it," said Henry.

William curled further into himself. "I don't know how many more of those I can take."

Even though he hadn't been the one who transformed, Henry was exhausted from the ordeal, too. "Maybe next time you'll catch it sooner," he said. "Nip it in the bud with a time out or a walk or something."

"A walk'd be nice," William mumbled wearily into the soggy black stain.

—

William was getting tired of being surprised by daytime transformations. He was tired of transformations in general. He was just tired, overall. And yet, the transformations weren't going to stop, life wasn't going to stop; he needed to adapt or die and he had come too far to just die.

Henry took the news of the permanence of the rabbit better than William had expected. Honestly, he didn't know why Henry hadn't thrown him out yet after all the trouble he had and would continue to cause, but he wasn't about to mention it just in case Henry changed his mind. If Henry was willing to be flexible and put up with him, William would do his best to cause as little further destruction as possible. And that meant coming up with rabbit-distractions, or as Henry called them, "coping strategies." As they scrubbed Henry's carpet with stain-remover, Will and Henry rattled off situations when the rabbit would likely be activated and came up with what they would each do to either prevent it from activating or calm it down once it was.

It felt nice to talk to Henry like this again; it made William feel like the rabbit was a project, a puzzle they were solving together. It reminded him of when they first dreamed up Fazbear's, when they spent most nights awake with blueprints spread across Will's kitchen table, making notes and deciding whether the robots should be people or animals and which animals. Henry had wanted an octopus but they agreed it didn't make sense with the bear and rabbit theme they had, and William, he suddenly remembered, way back before they had come up with Fredbear and Springbonnie, had drawn up preliminary sketches for a red crocodile animatronic with a long snout and lots of teeth. He laughed to himself in disbelief, too tired to be truly sad, and wondered if coincidences existed or if everything moved on a locked track toward a predestined end.

"Whatcha laughing about?" Henry asked, gathering the rags and resigning himself to living with the big black stain until the carpet was replaced.

"Ah, nothing," William answered, standing up and cracking his back. "Myself. Sorry again about your floor."

Henry waved him away. "I'll buy a throw rug," he said.

William glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. Four P.M. Not a lot of time before he'd need to return to the basement. He felt a kick of adrenaline in his chest that tightened his lungs; he didn't know whether it was him or the rabbit panicking—the distinction was getting increasingly blurry and arbitrary—but he assured the rabbit it was fine, anyway, and promised they wouldn't use the ropes tonight. He could breathe more easily after that.

When Henry went downstairs to eat, William told him he would follow in a little bit. He went into his room and pulled the blankets off his bed. The ratty old comforter in the basement was thin and the concrete underneath made his hips ache in the morning. He balled up the blankets, making sure they wouldn't drag on the floor, but before he turned to carry them down to the basement, he stopped. He eyed his bed, his mattress stripped and waiting for someone to sleep on it. He'd never sleep in that room again, he realized, aside from naps during the day, which he hoped to avoid as much as possible, since his time as himself was already so limited. He might as well move his things into the basement permanently: everything the rabbit wouldn't destroy, anyway.

William deliberated for another long moment, the blankets weighing heavy in his arms, then he dropped them back onto the bed and went downstairs to Henry and the kids. They were all in the backyard. Henry was sitting at the deck table eating a cheese sandwich, Nick and Lizzie were splashing around a plastic swimming pool, and Charlie and Michael were sitting at opposite ends of the deck, reading separately, backs to each other. William had never seen them so far from each other since before they could walk. He lounged behind the screen door for a moment, just watching, savoring this sight of his family. It felt like forever since he had watched his kids play without keeping an eye on the sun to make sure he was back in the basement before it set. His previous life seemed like eons ago. Elizabeth caught sight of him, spun around in her strawberry-patterned swimsuit, and waved at him. He waved back and Henry turned around in his chair to look at him.

"Mike," William called. Michael lifted his head from his book. "Help me with something, would you?"

Mike closed his book and followed his father through the kitchen, up the stairs, and into William's bedroom. He waited close behind as William stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, assessing what should be done first. Michael scratched the side of his face and glanced back down the stairs, as though he longed to go back outside and not talk to Charlie.

"Want your own room?" asked William. Mike snapped back to attention. The house had five bedrooms: everyone had their own room except Mike and Nicholas, who had to share one. Mike was a good sport about it but William knew, as a "basically sixteen"-year-old, Mike surely had been missing having the space he had when it was just Aftons in this house.

"Like, your room?" Mike asked tentatively.

William nodded. "If you help me carry my stuff to the basement, it's yours," he said. Michael didn't answer right away. He, like William, was thinking about the lack of natural light and heating in the basement. He had a pained expression that made him look ten years older. William wrestled a wide smile onto his face and clapped Mike on the back. "I spend all my time down there anyway," he said. "Come on." He lifted the ball of blankets and set them in Mike's arms. "Carry these down for me and I'll start taking apart the bed."

They dismantled the bed together in silence. Because time was limited, William decided they had better haul it to the basement and set it back up before moving on to the less important items like the bookshelves or clothes. Also, William was reluctant to move too much into the basement just in case the rabbit got it into its head to destroy or eat his things. It had been very destructive that first night at Freddy's, but then again, it had fought with Henry and had not been drugged. Since they had moved its transformation area to the basement, William hadn't found more than scratches on the door and smears of blood. He'd have to lay a sheet down on top of the bed so he wouldn't stain his blankets, he noted. Though, secretly, William was hoping, now that he wasn't antagonizing the rabbit anymore and he had successfully fought off one transformation, maybe he could keep the rabbit calm enough tonight that it would decide to let him stay human. He'd sit up in the basement petting it all night if it meant he could avoid another transformation. He didn't tell this to Henry and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Michael, just in case he was wrong; he didn't need them pitying him more than they already did.

With the bed set up downstairs, the basement looked like a new room, less like a prison cell with drawings on the wall and more like a bedroom that just happened to be underground. William got a couple of old bedsheets from the linen closet and spread them out over his bed and the floor, making it look like he was covering the furniture in preparation to paint the walls. Maybe he should, he thought; paint over that dismal gray with something more friendly. A mint green? Sunshine yellow? He'd ask Elizabeth's opinion later. William and Michael decided to bring down the bookshelf after all, but only with a few books on it, and they carried down his dresser, with a few drawer-fulls of clothes. If the rabbit ended up being in a destructive mood, it at least wouldn't be able to get everything.

William sat on the end of the bed and dabbed sweat from his forehead with the collar of his tank top. "If all goes well, we can bring the rest down in the morning," he said. Michael nodded, hands in his basketball shorts pockets, standing near the stairs. "And," William continued, "once that's done, I'll help you move your bed and things."

"Thanks, Dad," Michael said quietly. He went silent again and stared at the floor, scuffing his shoe in the wood dust from where the dresser had scraped the bottom step.

William glanced at his watch—5:30—and folded his hands on his knees. "Something on your mind?" he asked. Michael shrugged and continued to avoid eye contact. William heard a rattling hum as Henry switched on the floor fan upstairs. "Is it about the rabbit?" Michael shook his head almost imperceptibly. William scratched at his hand where the springlock wounds were scabbing over and beginning to itch. "Is it about Charlie?"

Michael looked up suddenly, shocked, as though he couldn't believe his dad had guessed what he thought he had hidden so skillfully. Just as quickly as he looked up, he looked down again; he turned to the bookcase and began arranging the books on the shelf for something to do. "Surely it can't be that bad," William said lightheartedly. "You and Charlie don't fight. Not really. Not like Henry and I do. Whatever happened, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding—"

"She's going to UCLA," Michael said. He kept his attention on the books. "Freaking John was talking about starting out at community college and he asked what Charlie's plans were and Charlie says she wants to study robotics like her dad. In California. Like it's no big deal." He paused. William thought that maybe he was done, but then he started talking again. "She never told me she wanted to go to frickin California. And, like, she asked me what I was doing after graduation and I didn't know what to say because I haven't decided if I even want to go to college."

"Oh, you're going to college," William said. "If I have to fill out your applications, myself." William was only half-serious, but Mike didn't seem to have picked up on the joke and he seemed more miserable for it. William sighed and got up. He moved next to the bookcase where he could see Mike's face. "If it's the distance you're concerned about, why not apply to some California or Nevada universities? You have time. You're only a sophomore."

"I'm gonna be a junior in the fall, Dad. And the kinds of colleges Charlie's applying to, you have to start taking tests by like November." Mike rested his head dejectedly on the shelf. "I should have already been studying and volunteering for stuff, like, last year," he mumbled. "I know Charlie's going to get in because she's Charlie and she's like a genius or something. She's gonna be this amazing roboticist and I'm gonna be stuck here forever, making pizza."

William felt a kick in his chest and his face flushed. His heart beat hard and fast and his limbs went numb. Calm down, he told the rabbit—or himself, he couldn't tell anymore—Don't be so sensitive. "Henry and I would like to keep Freddy's in the family," William said in a measured tone. "But if you don't want it, you don't have to take it. We're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Sorry," Michael said. "I didn't mean it like that."

William hesitated when he saw Michael's face. "Neither did I," he confessed sheepishly. "I just meant…my boy's not going to get stuck anywhere. So don't worry too much about it. Okay? If you go to college and come back and want to help run the restaurant, that's great. But if not, that's fine too."

Mike's shoulders relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from them. "Thanks, Dad," he said. They stood in awkward silence for a moment. "So, uh," Mike spoke up. "You'd really do my applications for me?"

William slung his arm over Mike's shoulder. "Only if you don't mind me writing the essays about animatronics." Mike laughed uncomfortably, having trouble figuring out whether his father was serious or not. "Or," continued William. "I can just show you how to make them stand out."

Mike's smile relaxed. "That sounds better."

"Less work for me," agreed William as they walked upstairs together.

When they got back outside, Mike grabbed his book and went to sit beside Charlie and William, dishing himself up a bowl of lukewarm tomato soup from the stove, sat at the deck table across from Henry. The sun was low in the sky, but it wasn't sunset yet. Even so, William felt the rabbit vibrating in his bones like electricity. He looked out at Nick and Lizzie, who had abandoned the grassy, cold water of the pool to kick the soccer ball to each other through an obstacle course of their own making.

William didn't have long before he'd need to go to the basement and while he was frightened, he didn't feel so helpless. He and Henry had talked about it in-depth, they had come up with plans and tools and for the first time, William felt like, no matter what the rabbit did to him tonight, there was no risk of it damaging his family. He just had to relax, endure, and let it pass like a migraine. Then in the morning, he and his family would pick up where they left off.

Henry was diagraming a new shape of endoskeleton in his graph paper notebook. It looked similar to Foxy, but with one main difference.

"Six limbs, huh?" William asked, leaning over. Henry angled the notebook so he could see it better.

"Yeah," he replied. "I got the idea after taking Bonnie apart. It's been rattling around in my head ever since. Kids like building things, right?" He motioned to a circled joint and an enlarged sketch of an easily detachable ball and socket joint. "Wouldn't it be fun to make one of the animatronics something they could construct, themselves? They can pretend they're roboticists. Who knows? Maybe it'll get more kids interested in science."

William took a sip from his bowl and studied the diagram. "Looks fun," he said through a mouthful of soup. "It'll be hard to make cute, though. I think Mike calls the endoskeletons 'nightmare fuel.'"

"We'll give it a bow tie or lipstick or something," said Henry. He drew both onto the fox to illustrate and William nodded in approval.

Henry was quiet for a moment and watched the kids. He glanced at his watch and William did the same. 6:30. The evening was passing quickly. "Do you think you'll come to Freddy's tomorrow?" asked Henry.

William was about to say he would, but he knew better. "We'll see," he replied instead. "I might just stay home and watch The Shining. Figure out exactly what triggers the rabbit."

Henry chuckled. "Thank you for watching it without me," he said. His laughter died away and they sat together again in silence.

"Welp," William said eventually, pushing up from the chair and gathering his bowl. "Better start getting ready." Henry stood up to follow. "No, sit," said William, the adrenaline starting to kick in, making his knees and voice shake. "I can do it alone."

Henry crossed the deck and put his hands on William's shoulders. "But you're not alone," he said, looking him solemnly in the eye. "The rabbit's as much my responsibility as it is yours. Got it?"

A small, relieved smile crawled onto William's face. He felt a stab in his chest, but it wasn't the rabbit. "Think you can keep Lizzie out of the basement for once?"

"I've got a plan. It isn't foolproof, but short of tying Elizabeth up, I think it's my best idea so far," Henry replied.

"…Are you going to weld the door shut?"

"I'm gonna weld the door shut."

Henry did what he promised. They decided that, once William was settled, he would weld the basement door lock into place in place of screws. Elizabeth-proof, supposedly, but only time would tell.

William took the tranquilizer, dressed into a tank top and shorts, and he and Henry sat on the bed together, waiting. Henry mentioned the possibility of William using the strategies of before to stave off his nightly transformations the way he stopped transforming in Henry's bedroom. William agreed to try, but his hope of that working was dwindling; it was one thing to chase clouds away but quite another to stop the sun from setting.

William put his head down, tried to focus on calming the rabbit, but all it wanted to do was shake, as though it was waiting anxiously for someone to open the door and give it permission to run free. Henry held William's hands to stop them from shaking and William tried to take deep breaths. Like a rubber band stretched to its limit, William knew he was going to snap any moment.

"It's coming," he said quietly. "Better head back upstairs."

Henry hesitated but staying was dangerous, no matter how much he wanted to, so finally, he gave William a hug and stood up. "I'll be right up there if you need anything," he said.

William gave a thumbs up and Henry left. When he was gone, William hung his head low between his knees and dug his fingers into his hair. Please, he begged the rabbit. Black blood began to drip down his face and onto the floor. Please, I'm not fighting you anymore. Please don't do this.

The rabbit was eager and no amount of talk was going to convince it to surrender its time. William felt a crack down the center of his core and white heat began to pool in his chest and spread through his limbs. He felt himself growing, stretching, changing, like a tree reaching desperately for the sun. He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax.

Oh well, he thought with his last shred of human coherence. It would be over soon and he'd see Henry and the kids tomorrow. The forecast said eighty-five and blue skies. Perfect for sitting in the pool and reading.

* * *

A/N: Little do they know, Elizabeth knows how to weld, too, and pick locks. Or if she doesn't already, she will by tomorrow. No door is safe.

And let Will go swimming without endangering himself, please. He wants it so badly.

One chapter left! Thank you so much for the support!


	9. Life Goes On

Time has a way of making all things mundane: even nightly were-rabbit transformations. William's transformations were slotted into the schedule like an exercise routine or a TV program he couldn't miss. Just before sunset every evening, William kissed his kids goodnight, locked himself downstairs, and waited until the rabbit surfaced and he was submerged until sunrise. Then, in the morning, he made his bed, folded up the drop cloth, and showered and dressed for the day. Henry suggested installing a small bathroom in the basement so William didn't have to climb three flights of stairs while still not quite himself, but William assured him that he didn't mind, that it helped him massage out any lingering traces. It became routine and while the shock to his body when the change was happening was still fairly intense, knowing what to expect made it bearable. Sometimes he even reclined on the bed with a Science Monthly magazine right up until his bones started breaking.

This morning, though, when William opened his eyes to the dark basement lit only by nightlight, he felt the rabbit sitting irregular in his chest like a knotted muscle, begging him not to get up or finish packing or load the station wagon; it didn't want to go to California, so far from home with new smells and new food, even just for a weekend, and it didn't want to be trapped in the car for such a long time. William lifted the wristwatch from his nightstand: six AM. They needed to be on the road by seven so they could make it to the hotel in Nevada before sunset. He had never been to Southern California and he was excited to see places like Hollywood and the Santa Monica Pier. However, he would have happily given that up if it meant Mike and Charlie would stay home forever. His and the rabbit's dread pooled together and William wanted to sink into the bed and let the day pass uneventfully, fantasizing that then maybe Mike and Charlie would forget about college. But this was a happy day and Mike had worked hard for it over the last two years, so William pulled on his robe and shuffled upstairs.

When he opened the door to the pre-dawn kitchen, the scent of coffee stung his hyperactive senses and he realized Michael was already up, drinking from a mug at the table, sitting in the dark by himself. Now at eighteen, Michael looked more like William than ever, though a version of him that lifted more weights. Will still pictured all his children as forever five years old, but this morning, he got a glimpse of Mike as an adult for the first time. He was proud in a way that hurt.

William tentatively closed the basement door and clicked on a floor lamp, causing Mike to shield his eyes. "Ready to be a…a college kid?" he asked, forcing his voice to be jovial as he poured himself a cup.

"I think so," Mike answered. He was quiet for a long time afterward, gazing into his nearly empty mug.

William scratched and stroked the back of his neck, coaxing the rabbit to calm down and go to sleep, then sat across from his son. "Do you want toast?" he asked. Michael didn't answer. "I'm starving, um, as usual, but maybe it's too early for you. For breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry," said Mike. William nodded and got up to put bread into the toaster for himself. "How did last night go?" Mike asked out of the blue.

William looked at him and it took a moment for him to figure out he was talking about the change. "Fine." William smiled wide, determined not to bring the mood down. Last night had been more difficult than usual because he and the rabbit were stressed about the road trip, but compared to the way things used to be, it wasn't the worst transformation he'd ever had. "The nightlight helped. Good idea, Mike."

Mike nodded and averted his gaze. He and Will heard the muffled beeping of Henry's alarm sounding upstairs. "Are you going to be alright?" Mike asked suddenly. "You know, alone?"

William was taken aback and didn't know what to say; why was Michael asking him all these difficult questions so early in the morning when he still had rabbit-brain? Mike seemed to have noticed his confusion because he kept talking. "I know you're not alone alone," he said. "You have Uncle Henry and Nick and Lizzie. But, I mean, do you think you and Uncle Henry can handle things—the rabbit plus the kids—without me and Charlie? Like…for real, are you going to be okay? Because if not, I can stay."

The rabbit wanted to take Mike up on his offer and so did William, but if Michael gave up college to stay home and take care of his dad, he would regret it and William would never be able to forgive himself. Besides, Will and Henry weren't exactly in dire straits; they had the rabbit scheduled and managed with routine check-ins and safety measures to keep it occupied and dormant as possible. It had been working, too. William hadn't transformed during the day since he and Elizabeth had gone holiday shopping at the mall last December, and even then it had been quickly averted by a soft pretzel and head pets in a dressing room. As long as William didn't cut corners or take risks, they would be fine.

"You better not be worrying about that this morning," William said with a wide smile. "You're supposed to be excited."

"I'll be excited if you give me a straight answer, Dad."

William's smile faded a little. "We've got it covered," he said. "Don't worry. Now," He motioned to the small pile of suitcases, bags, and blankets in the living room. "Is that all going?" Michael nodded and William rolled up the sleeves of his robe. "Gotta make use of what's left of my rabbit-strength," he explained smiling back at Mike; in reality, he just wanted out of the conversation. Henry's snoozed alarm went off again. After a moment, Mike gulped down the rest of his coffee and got up to help.

Henry came downstairs yawning a little while later and turned on all the lights in the living room and kitchen. While he and Charlie loaded their bags into the car, William went upstairs to make sure his kids were up and dressed. By seven-thirty, they were all packed into the car with books and coloring books and walkmen ready for a full day of driving, and were on their way to California; but not before driving through for breakfast sandwiches and more coffee, of course, as was tradition for road trips.

William took his two egg and sausage sandwiches out of the fast-food bag and passed the rest to the back seats. As he unwrapped the first sandwich, William nudged the duffel bag by his feet just to assure himself that they hadn't left it behind. He took a bite and stared out the window, but he eventually couldn't help himself and opened up the bag, checking the drop sheets, the pills—were there enough pills?—the foam strips and duct tape he would use to soundproof the door. There were no restraints because they didn't work, but William felt like they should have brought some, just in case.

"How're you doing?" Henry asked, eyes on the road.

William took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair. Calm down, he told the rabbit, just calm down. "Fine," he said. "Great. Perfect. I've got a sandwich and I'm going on a road trip with my family. How could I be anything else?"

"If you're feeling a little nervous or uncomfortable," Henry said under his breath so the kids couldn't hear. "I'd say that's normal."

"I'm not," insisted William, zipping the duffel bag back up. "Maybe a little…stimulated, but I'm fine. This'll be fine."

"Every time you say 'fine,' I'm going to keep a sharper eye on you," Henry said with a smile, but William could tell it wasn't a joke. "I'm glad you're so fine, but if you start to feel like you're not, tell me. Okay? Road trips are stressful for everyone. I don't want to find out at the hotel tonight that we should have been taking more rest stops."

"I'm fine," William said once more and shifted to face the window. It was a beautiful day to be traveling. Sunlight shone down from a blue cloudless sky and made the grass, trees, and the tops of the cars shimmer. "I can handle it."

—

They stopped for lunch at noon and then several more roadside rest stops throughout the afternoon. The rabbit was screaming when William stepped out of the car, wobbling on stiff legs toward the restrooms; before he made it, he felt the familiar white heat down his spine so he swerved off and sat at a picnic table in the shade. He raced through his coping mechanisms, hoping one would work. You're okay, he told the rabbit. You're doing fine. Just relax. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, he stroked the back of his neck. Pollen from desert sage dried out his throat and made him cough. You're okay, he repeated. You're okay.

The sun warming his eyelids suddenly cut off and when he opened his eyes, he saw Henry standing over him holding out a can of cherry coke dripping with water from the cooler. "Rabbit?" he asked.

William took the can and pressed it to the back of his neck. "It's the heat," he said. "I'll be fine in a moment."

"We'll be to the hotel in two hours. Are you going to make it?"

William opened the coke and took a long slow drink. He almost said he'd be fine again, but then remembered what Henry had said earlier. So instead, he stood, gave Henry what he meant to be a reassuring grin, and wandered back to the car.

It was the longest two hours of his life, but finally, they made it to the Nevada hotel. Henry checked them in while William made sure Lizzie and Nick didn't wander off in the lobby. William glanced up at the clock on the wall, then out at the quickly approaching sunset. They had cut it close this time, with Henry insisting they make rest stops every couple hours. If they had left home just one hour later, they wouldn't have made it; William wondered what they would have done instead and thought that they probably should have made an emergency plan for that specifically. They had talked briefly that, if sunset was approaching and it didn't look like they would make it to the intended hotel, they would find a different one along the way. Or, as a very last resort, William would take a double dose of tranquilizers before changing, Henry would tie him up, drive miles away from civilization, dump him in the desert and hope he would sleep all night.

They had experimented with the unconscious approach before and it seemed to work well at first: William went to sleep while still human and woke up the next morning in the same position with no evidence that he had moved. However, they preferred not to use that method because when they had tried it, it had made the rabbit especially active during the day, which made functioning like a human impossible. It had been right at the surface, ready to transform at the slightest stimulation, sometimes with no stimulation at all. William couldn't imagine spending a day in the car in such a state and would probably have to take an extra day in Nevada, sitting in a hotel room with the lights off, watching cartoons, eating ice cream, and doing breathing exercises; it didn't sound so bad, actually.

He thought about asking Lizzie if she wanted to do that with him tonight, but realized there wasn't time; gone were the father and daughter movie nights, bedtime stories with Nick, and late-night baking and heart-to-hearts with Mike. But he had made peace with that a long time ago and did his best to dismantle those ways of spending time with his kids and sprinkle them through his daylight hours. Baking with Michael might permanently be a thing of the past, though. He wouldn't get to see him for four months, and then only for two short weeks during the winter, when the sun set in the afternoon—

No, stop, he told himself, trying not to alarm the hotel staff. Don't think about that. He was about to escape to the restroom to splash water on his face when Henry came over to him with the keys. He must have seen from William's face that he was on his last nerve because he called the kids over to help carry the bags and he took William's, himself.

"Two rooms?" William asked.

Henry handed one set of keys to William. "Two rooms."

After getting the kids set up in their large, two-bed room, William slung the duffel bag of rabbit supplies over his shoulder and went to the room next door. Henry followed him in and together, they rabbit-proofed the room by stowing the electronics and anything else the rabbit might break in the closet. William took his medicine and started dressing down while Henry made a final sweep of the room and taped foam along the doorframe. Henry checked the window and made sure it was locked tight.

"Looks like you're all set," he said with a nervous grin.

"Thanks," William said, sitting on the bed. Henry walked toward the door, paused and turned back to William.

"If you need anything, just knock on the wall," he said putting his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

William looked up at him; his head was swimming, filling with cotton. "Thanks," he said again, all he could think to say. Henry nodded in finality and, after a bit more deliberation, went back into the hall.

Once he was alone, William dead-bolted the door, sat in the center of the bed crosslegged, hands on his knees, and waited for the change to begin. His heart thudded hard in his chest, making his ribs vibrate. He felt all his muscles tensing and smarting, like the rabbit had taken them into its hands and was twisting.

"Calm down," he said, swallowing. "You're safe, you're okay. Just take—" He felt the first crack down his spine. Pain flushed through him, much worse than he was used to. "Take it…easy." He hung his head forward and tried to relax his muscles. But the rabbit was angry and overwhelmed; William had taken it far from its home, far from its routine, and it wanted to fight. William felt another blow; he felt the bones in his arms and legs snap and pull apart from each other, growing in short, painful bursts like electric shocks.

He stretched out carefully on his stomach. "You're okay," he whispered weakly into the blanket, as much to himself as the rabbit. "You did good today. Calm down. Just calm—" He felt his neck snap and his skull bisect, allowing a snout to push through. His lungs were useless as the rabbit changed his body to suit it, and the lack of oxygen just heightened the rabbit's panic. The positive self-talk was forgotten. All language was forgotten and all he could think about was how hungry he still was and how desperate he was to escape this cramped body. He grabbed fistfuls of the blanket and buried his face in it, trying not to be too loud, but he failed at that, too.

—

The next morning, while brushing his teeth, William noticed a new, deep cut on his face: a jagged red fissure that extended from the side of his nose, through both lips, and tapered off halfway down his chin. He dabbed it with a tissue, but it wasn't bleeding anymore. It looked like his skin had been torn, as though his jaws had grown sloppily and too quickly. While the mark was already half-healed, he knew it would become another scar, one that would be harder to cover up than the one on his throat. It made him look like he had gotten into a fistfight; it would make him look even less like a stable father in front of Mike's new professors.

He glared at himself in the mirror. "I don't want to hear a peep out of you today," he scolded. "You had your tantrum. This is Mike and Charlie's day and if you don't behave, we'll stay in the car. Got it?" He waited for confirmation, even though the rabbit never responded; he wasn't sure it even understood language, only emotion. Still, he felt better for having said it and if anything, it strengthened his own resolve. He rinsed out his mouth, tossed his toothbrush into his overnight bag and went to see if Henry and the kids were up yet.

Elizabeth opened the door, still in her pajamas and smiling bright as the sun. "Morning, Dad!" she greeted, giving him a hug. "You sure were loud last night. We could hear you through the wall."

William smiled awkwardly as they entered the room together. "It didn't like the drive," he explained.

"There's only a couple more hours to L.A.," Henry said, leaning out of the bathroom, buttoning a short-sleeved shirt over a tank top and cargo shorts. "Then you'll get to have a break from the car for a while." He looked more tropical than ever and William knew he was looking forward to going on the beach. Charlie was shut in the inner section of the bathroom taking a shower, Mike was reading on the pullout couch by the window, and Nick was still asleep tangled up under the covers.

"What happened to your lip?" Mike asked.

"Huh?" William touched the gash absentmindedly; his mind had moved on to California and college. "Oh, nothing," he replied, then leaned over Nick to wake him up.

They took the elevator down to the dining room where they ate the last few pieces of toast, fruit, and bowls of cereal left over from the continental breakfast, then they were back on the road. Despite protests from the back seat, William turned the radio to an oldies station to distract himself from the hours ahead of open road. Though he was tired of sitting in the car, he knew that once they arrived, Michael would move into the dorms and William would have to go home without him for the first time in eighteen years; because of this, even though William was sweating, his lip stung, and he was more than a little nauseated even when he kept his eyes on the horizon, he wished the car ride would never end.

California loomed ahead in the form of a red checkpoint gate and once Henry convinced the officers that they didn't have any raw meat, vegetables, or plants hidden in the car, they were waved through and into the sunshine state for the first time. Even though they were still driving through the desert, knowing they weren't in Nevada anymore made it feel different. Eventually, the two-lane freeway turned into six, and the few sparse cars and eighteen-wheelers turned into a steady stream of traffic that forced them to slow to an almost stop. Palm trees grew up around overpasses and canals followed them into the hot, golden haze signifying a large city on the horizon. Sure enough, after another half-hour of stop-and-go traffic through wide switchbacks of sun-bleached asphalt, they saw the Aon Center scraping the sky above the trees, welcoming Mike and Charlie like a doorman into the next season of their lives.

Mike and Charlie were glued to the window just like Lizzie and Nick, excitedly taking it all in. They talked quickly and loudly, pointing at various buildings, trees and animals. Questions were shot rapid-fire at the front seat. "Look at that cactus, Dad!" "Dad, look! You can see L.A.!" "Dad, what's that building? And that one?" "Is that Hollywood?" Because Henry was concentrating on navigating the unfamiliar freeway, William answered all the questions as best he could but most of the answers he gave were guesses.

In another hour, they arrived at their hotel just outside Culver City, dropped their bags and freshened up, Will took a Benadryl, and then they drove the short distance to UCLA for Mike and Charlie's orientation. The university was buzzing with activity, parents, incoming freshmen, and younger siblings with white name tags followed around professionally friendly upperclassmen on tours of campus. The old buildings loomed around them like castles made of red bricks, and William felt small and helpless like he was going to the dentist to have a tooth pulled. Like he was a rabbit in a trap.

"Not a peep," he reminded the rabbit when they parked and got out of the car.

"What?" Henry asked, clipping his sunglasses to his shirt. William waved in a vague explanation and led the way to the check-in table. A girl with dreadlocks and a bright face smiled at them as they approached, surrounded by blank name tags, markers, pamphlets, and folders. William slapped his hands down on the table, making her jump. To her credit, she didn't drop her smile.

"I'm Mike's dad, and that's Charlie and Henry and Elizabeth and Nicholas." William motioned to the rest of the family. "We're supposed to check in?"

The girl's eyes darted from Will, to Will's lip, to Henry and the kids. "Uh, last name?"

"Af-afton," answered William. He felt his nose dripping and wiped it with his fingers. When he looked down, he saw that his fingers were black. He covered his nose with his hand quickly and turned away. With a hurried "Excuse us for a minute," Henry guided him away from the table and Michael and Charlie finished checking in. He led him into the shade and handed him a tissue and water bottle.

"Fucking…" William seethed, taking a swig of water. He wiped his nose and shoved the tissue into the pocket of his shorts. "We've only been here for like two fucking minutes…"

"Breathe," Henry said. "You're doing fine."

"I'm not, though."

"Orientation's stressful for everyone," Henry insisted. "If you're nervous, it just means you're normal."

"I'm a time bomb," complained William. Mike, Charlie, and the other kids were sticking name tags on each other and coming over to join their fathers under the tree. "And she thinks I'm insane." Henry asked who, and William jerked his head at the girl at the orientation table, who was now helping another family get checked in.

"She's probably just thinking about when she can go to lunch," Henry said. William didn't respond so Henry patted him comfortingly on the back. "You're doing good. And I'm proud of you."

Elizabeth jogged over to William with a name tag sticker stuck to her finger. On it, she had written his name and drawn doodles of rabbits and rainbows and hearts with the colorful markers available. She positioned it in front of him expectantly, and William reluctantly leaned over so she could stick it to his polo.

"Do you need to hold my hand, Dad?" she asked, smoothing the name tag into place.

William hesitated. He wanted to say no, he didn't need the comfort, but his head was screaming and they still had a long day ahead. "If you're not too old for it," he said.

Elizabeth considered this. She flipped one of her braids casually over her shoulder. "I'm not the one who needs it," she said.

William smiled, amused, and took her hand. "Alright then." The moment their hands touched, he felt the rabbit start to cool down, like a red-hot burner that had finally been turned off. It still didn't like the activity and the noise and the heat and knowing that they'd be leaving Mike there, but Elizabeth's hand made him feel secure and the rabbit felt comfortable enough to trust that she and William had everything under control for now. As they walked across campus toward the dormitory circled on Michael's map, William squeezed Elizabeth's hand tight, the way a boat holds onto a dock.

Mike's dorm was five stories tall and brand new, a brick-paneled monolith with tall windows and a wide sidewalk between grassy yards and two rows of palm trees. College students were lounging on the grass on blankets tanning, or walking across slacklines they had fastened between trees.

"I'll just get my key and then we can check out your dorm," Mike said, staring up at the windows.

"No rush," Charlie replied, staring with him.

They approached another check-in table, with a college guy sitting behind it this time. Michael did the talking this time while William focused on breathing. Elizabeth gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement. Mike's room was on the fourth floor at the end right next to the emergency exit stairs, which William approved of. However, the room itself was small and simple, much smaller than his room at home, with two sets of bunk beds crammed inside. Another boy—a philosophy major with a guitar—and his family were inside, helping set up so there wasn't enough room for all the Aftons and Emilys to fit inside and they had to hover in the hallway, dodging students taking bags and lamps and guitars to their own rooms while Michael and William stood on Michael's side of the room, cramped and chronically in the way.

Eventually, Mike's roommate said he and his family were going to grab lunch and asked if Mike and his family wanted to come. Mike asked to take a raincheck and finally, they were alone. Nick and Elizabeth wasted no time climbing up onto the top bunk and pressing their feet to the ceiling while Charlie and Henry looked out the window at the canal below. Mike was shuffling around filing out the pre-move-in checklist he'd been given downstairs while William stood in the doorway, hugging himself uncomfortably, scratching his elbow.

"Four in a nine-by-nine?" Will scoffed. "They've gotta be kidding, right? How are you supposed to have any privacy?" Michael shrugged and clicked his desk lamp on to make sure it worked. "Stingy," William continued as he scuffed his shoe on the economy carpet. "All these students paying all this money and they can't spring for bigger rooms?"

"They said we're a big freshman class, Uncle Will," Charlie said, leaning against the windowsill. "It's usually only two per room."

"And that kid, Brad, he seems like he's going to keep you up all night with that guitar," said William. "It's not too late to ask for a different room, Michael. A bigger one, with air conditioning. So you can focus better on studying. Th-that's the reason you came here in the first place. To study."

"Will?" Henry stepped forward, concerned.

William pressed his fingers to his nose, but they came away clean. "I'm just saying," he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You don't have to put up with it."

Michael smiled thinly. "Dad, if something's not right, I promise I'll complain to the R.A. Like you would."

William nodded solemnly and stared at the floor. "That's all I ask," he said.

Michael finished his checklist and they handed it back to the student at the check-in table downstairs on their way out of the building. Charlie's dorm was across campus in a much older building that smelled like mothballs and old carpet. The poor insulation made the inside feel like a sauna in the direct sun, made only slightly better by the box fans in the windows. William was about to suggest she should try to move into Mike's dorm on one of the women's floors, but when they got to her room, it was so small that only a single bed fit inside, meaning she had the room all to herself, no roommate. Mike frowned, jealous, while Charlie, with a cocky smile, started filling out her check-in paperwork.

—

Once Mike and Charlie were both moved in, the orientation schedule started. As a family, they took a tour of campus led, unfortunately, by the girl from the first check-in table; while she was talking about the history of each building, whenever her eyes slid over William, her smile faded just a bit. William held Elizabeth's hand and tried to stay at the back of the small crowd of parents and new students. If this had all been taking place at Freddy's—hell, if this had been anywhere in Colorado—he would have made a point to be at the front, asking questions and teasing the tour guide. But here, William felt like he was standing on sand and it took all his concentration just to keep himself steady; he didn't want to take any chances.

The tour took them into the science building where they came across one of the engineering professors having a coffee in the hall. There were a few moments of mingling and Charlie quickly introduced herself, dragging Mike to shake hands with him as well. The professor said he looked forward to having them both in class and inquired what branches of engineering they were planning on pursuing. Charlie immediately said she was interested in software engineering, but Michael muttered self-consciously that he wasn't sure yet. The professor laughed, telling him not to act so worried about it, that there was plenty of time to get that straightened out. To get the spotlight off of him, Mike introduced the professor to William, saying that he was an engineer as well.

"Wow, runs in the family!" said the professor, extending his hand. William disentangled his fingers from Elizabeth's and shook it quickly, acutely aware of how sweaty his hands were. The professor introduced himself as Bill, and realizing that he and Will had the same name was enough to knock William's concentration off balance. He kept trying to get his restaurant-owner autopilot to kick in, but it remained offline.

"Great to meet you," William said too quickly. "Mike's really smart and will do great in your class, I promise, and this is Henry." He pulled Henry closer as if using him as a shield against the conversation. "He's an engineer, too. And my daughter Elizabeth wants to do something with engineering as well when she's older. And Nicky, my youngest…I don't know what he wants, he'll probably do engineering, too. We're just, we're all engineers here!" Bill laughed politely with him, uncomfortable because William was still holding his hand. Finally, Henry stepped in and started talking about the restaurant, giving William an exit.

William dropped Bill's hand and took a few steps away. He found a drinking fountain nearby and splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck. He saw Elizabeth's purple sandals appear beside the drinking fountain.

"I wanna run a hotel, Dad. I told you," she said.

"I know, sweetie," he said, "I know. Sorry. I panicked."

Elizabeth smiled and patted his head. "That's okay. If you want, I can do both."

—

The new students welcome dinner was scheduled for seven that evening and William couldn't be more annoyed. To be safe, he needed to be locked in the hotel room by eight, which meant he had all of fifteen minutes at the dinner. He wanted to march to the admissions office and demand they move it to six instead but Henry begged him not to. It had probably been planned for seven for a long time, he reasoned. If they suddenly moved it to six, no one would be there and the food wouldn't be ready.

But I'd get to attend my boy's farewell dinner, William thought. He hadn't felt such resentment for his condition for a long time. It was no use asking the spirit to lift the curse. After dozens of attempts with no answer, he had stopped asking. It wasn't listening and it didn't care what happened to William as long as he didn't commit that hypothetical mystery sin. Even so, as William freshened up in one of the campus restrooms, soaking a paper towel and dabbing his face and neck, he gazed hungrily into the mirror and pleaded with the spirit to lift to curse just for tonight so he could send his son off properly.

He stared into the mirror, felt in himself, searching for a sign that the spirit had heard him and granted his request, but there was no one in the mirror but his own scarred face, no change inside but the continuous waves of emotion from the rabbit. Forget it, he thought. He wadded up the paper towel and flung it into the wastebasket on the way out.

The Aftons and Emilys were seated at a circular table draped in a white table cloth, one of the dozens set out on the large square lawn nestled in the center of campus. There were glass cups and a pitcher of ice water and William quickly poured himself one and downed it. Up at the front of the lawn was a small wooden stage with a microphone; professionally-printed banners hung on either side, covered in the school's blue and gold with bears galore—apparently called "bruins" officially—and large block text that said, "Welcome New Students!" Michael and Charlie had loosened up quite a bit over the day and were happily chatting with Henry and the kids. William smiled and tried to chat along, but his mind was on the clock, and his eyes were on the sun sinking below the trees. He checked his watch every minute or so, listened for any rumblings in his brain that signaled the change coming. He'd need to go soon and he didn't appreciate that it was 7:05 and the speaker hadn't come onstage yet. At this rate, he wasn't going to get to be part of the farewell dinner at all.

"Dad, what was the mascot at your school?" Mike's question shook William out of his dark mood.

"Buffaloes," William answered, pressing water droplets from his glass into the tablecloth. "Though most midwest colleges have buffalo mascots, so ours wasn't anything special."

"What do you mean ours wasn't special?" Henry laughed. "Ours was blue."

"That one in Utah was purple," William said. "And if I recall, there was one in South Dakota, wasn't there, that was yellow." He poured himself another glass of water. "Like I said. Nothing special."

"I think multicolored buffaloes are always special," said Elizabeth as she pulled a drawing notebook and fluorescent gel pens from her Hello Kitty backpack. "No matter how many there are." William smiled and consented that that might be the case. Brightly-colored animals never went out of style, it seemed. Henry said that maybe they should add a buffalo to the Freddy's family. William checked his watch again: it was 7:12. His time was nearly gone and the dinner hadn't even started.

Finally, on stage, a woman in a floral-patterned skirt and blouse stepped up to the mic and the din of conversation faded away and there was a communal sound of shuffling as people at each table turned to her expectantly. William felt the rabbit close to his skin, hair raised like hackles on the back of his neck. He squeezed his hands together on the table, listening to the welcome speech while trying to breathe normally. Without even looking up from her drawing, Elizabeth grabbed his hands with one of hers; William held it tightly and exhaled deeply. He could do this.

"Welcome, new bruins!" said the woman on stage. "Welcome, parents. We are so happy to have you all as part of the UCLA family." The woman—the dean—continued her speech, but William was no longer listening. He was looking around at the other tables, glancing at the sinking sun, gazing at the shadows growing on Michael's face. Mike caught him staring and gave him a quizzical look, but William shook his head and looked back up at the stage.

The minutes went by quickly and in no time, it was 7:15. William made no motion to move. He could stay just a little longer. He and Henry didn't need much time to get him ready and sunset wasn't until 8:23 tonight. Henry looked at his watch and then at William, but William pretended not to see him. He continued to squeeze Elizabeth's hand and sneak glances at Michael. 7:15 passed, and then 7:20. Finally, Henry leaned over to William and whispered that they'd better get going. William looked around at Charlie and his children, looking for an excuse, but he knew that staying any longer would be irresponsible.

"Yeah, you're right," he whispered back, standing. The table was near the back of the lawn, so him standing didn't disrupt the speech. He was starting to feel the brain fogginess and he knew he needed to get somewhere secure fast. Everyone else stood with him: the two youngest and Henry because they were coming with, and Charlie and Mike to say goodbye. Henry and the kids each gave Michael hugs and wished him good luck. Elizabeth and Nick both gave him various trinkets that he had to promise to keep on his person at all times.

William gave Charlie a hug and wished her good luck, then he moved on to Mike. They stood facing each other in silence, Mike with his hands in his pockets, William holding onto the back of the folding chair like an anchor. Mike was nervous and that nervousness manifested in a crinkle of skin between his eyebrows and lines around his downturned mouth, both of which were a carbon copy of William. He was even wearing purple tonight, William's favorite color, though Will knew it was just because it was the last shirt he had that was clean. They couldn't continue standing and staring like this, though; William needed to get to the hotel and Mike needed to get back to the dinner. William wrestled a big smile onto his face and gave Mike a hug.

"You'll be fine," he said. "And we'll be okay." He let Mike go, ruffled his hair even though he knew he hated it, and turned to leave. He waved. "Call me in the morning, okay?" He walked fast, heart pounding, weaving between tables, trying to get away as quickly as he could. He had almost made it through the final row of tables, when something grabbed his hand. He looked back and saw that it was Mike. He was glaring at him and William thought he was going to say something about his now mussed-up hair, but instead, he wrapped him in a crushing embrace. William chuckled and patted Mike's back sympathetically, but after a while, he couldn't keep up the charade any longer and he let the smile fall and just hugged him back.

"I'll miss you, Dad," Mike said into his shoulder. "I know this was hard, and I'm proud of you."

"That's my line," William said. "And I know I haven't been the perfect dad, but I hope you know I've always been proud of you. I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you."

"Please don't."

William chuckled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "I'll try not to," he promised. "You and Charlie be careful too, you hear me? No all-night partying in the city, no drinking, no sleeping on the beach, no—"

"I got it, Dad," Michael said.

When their embrace ended, William noticed that the black on his hand had smeared. "I may have gotten some of the, er, the black stuff on your shoulder."

Michael twisted around to see it and, sure enough, there was half a handprint in what looked like black ink on the back of his shirt. "No worries," he said. Henry and the kids approached, Henry with the car keys already in hand. "I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?"

William nodded. "Thank you."

"Have a good night, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too."

—

After the non-stop activity on campus, the hotel seemed empty and silent to William. Henry let Elizabeth and Nick into their room and then went into William's to help him get set up for the night. Or rather, Henry did all the getting ready himself while William sat hunched over and sullen on the bed. William felt like he had a weight in his chest and he couldn't sink low enough to relieve the strain of holding it up.

Henry handed him the pills and water bottle from the nightstand and sat beside him. "They'll be alright," said Henry. "Winter break will be here before we know it."

"I shouldn't have encouraged him so much," William muttered, turning the water bottle in his hands. "Maybe then he would have stuck close to home."

Henry smiled sadly and patted William's arm. "Want me to stick around tonight until it starts?"

William glanced at the alarm clock. It was 8:20 already. "Nah," he said. "Go have fun." After a moment of deliberation, Henry patted his arm again, wished him a good night, and returned to the room next door. William heard him and the kids talking through the wall. He heard the TV switch on to whatever station it had been turned to last.

William looked at the window, though he couldn't see the moon rising through the thick curtains. He looked down at the pills in his hand, looking a lot like chains to him tonight, and put them in his mouth like an act of surrender.

"Don't."

The voice was coming from the radiator under the window. It vibrated and clicked like it was turning on. Immediately, he felt his chest open and he felt the slumbering rabbit raise its head in curiosity; they both recognized the voice immediately. It was the toothy spirit, the one who had cursed him, breaking its silence for the first time in two years.

Somehow, William knew exactly what the voice was referring to and, even though he knew it was a bad idea to transform in a hotel room without a tranquilizer, he spit the dissolving pills into a tissue and tossed them into the bathroom wastebasket until he could figure out what it meant.

"Just for tonight," continued the voice.

"What do you mean?" William asked, but didn't receive an answer. He glanced at the bottle of pills on the nightstand, at the clock that now read 8:23. The transformation would be starting any second. He grabbed the pills and water, but he couldn't make himself take them. It was a bad idea, a very very bad idea. It was probably the rabbit messing with his head again, gumming up his mental processes, but the voice seemed so real. It didn't want him to take the sedative. Why? He jumped up from the bed and dropped to his knees in front of the radiator.

"What's just for tonight?" he said into the front grill. There was a clanging deep inside but nothing came out but a gentle breeze of cold air.

William got shakily to his feet and sat on the end of the bed, hands gripping his knees tight, feeling around for the rabbit, for the beginning of the change. Wasn't he usually thinking about meat and feeling trapped by now? He glanced at the clock again. 8:28. The rabbit was late. It wasn't gone, he could still feel it inside him, but it was dormant, as though it was curled up, watching him, pleading with its eyes for William not to make it get up. William's heart began to pound, not from transformation but because the realization of what was happening was impossible and yet he wanted it so damn badly.

He jumped to his feet again, meaning to go tell Henry, but then he sat back down. He'd better make sure what he suspected was true before putting everyone in danger. He climbed up onto the bed and sat against the headboard and stared at the opposite wall. Hanging was a painting of the Santa Monica Pier at night, the stalls lit up, the Ferris wheel a bright swirl of red and green and blue. He glanced back at the clock. 8:35 and no sign of a transformation. He waited longer, even tried to rouse the rabbit, but it only curled in tighter, like it wanted to be left alone. 8:35 turned to 8:40, then 8:45, then 9 o'clock.

Finally, at 9:15, William figured it was safe to assume he wouldn't be transforming tonight. He slid his jittery legs over the edge of the bed and meant to get up and unlock the door. But instead, he sat for a while and cried.

—

Henry and the kids were settled in with blankets and pillows in one of the king-sized beds, watching a movie with bowls of popcorn on their laps when there came a knock at the door. Elizabeth and Nick looked at Henry, confused, but Henry paused the movie and slid off the bed.

"Probably a delivery guy with a wrong room number," he said, slipping a robe over his t-shirt. He peered through the peephole and his heart just about stopped. He unlocked the door and pulled it open as fast as he could. Standing there, looking tired and worried in a bathrobe and pajama bottoms, but still very much human, was William.

William was smiling but his eyes were red and he was shaking all over like he had just been through something traumatic. Henry was speechless for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some new evolution of the rabbit.

"Will?" he asked, as though testing to see if the man outside was real. William smiled wider but not like the smile he gave customers; it looked genuine, it looked relieved.

"Hey, Henry," he said. "N-no transformation tonight. The voice, it said… I-I waited, I waited an hour, but it's asleep. The rabbit, it's…" He choked on the rest of his words and, still in shock, Henry stared at him numbly while he got ahold of himself.

"Are…are you sure?" Henry asked.

William nodded and shrugged, whatever that meant. "I waited," he said again. "Just to be sure."

Finally, the numbness thawed and Henry laughed out loud and gave William a big hug. He pulled him into the room and turned him to face the kids.

"Look who I found," Henry said. Elizabeth and Nicholas cheered in unison and jumped up off the bed, spilling popcorn everywhere. They clamped onto him like starfish and William hugged them, lifted them just an inch off the floor and spun them around, which earned more shrieks of delight.

"You watching a movie?" William asked.

"Yeah! Great Mouse Detective!" said Elizabeth. "Come on!" She pulled William further into the room. "You can sit in the middle." She and Nicholas scooped the popcorn back into the bowls and eventually, all four of them were sitting against the headboard with their legs under the blankets, with Elizabeth and Nick on either side of William snuggled in close. Henry asked if they were ready and Elizabeth announced that they were.

As the movie started to play, Elizabeth popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth and leaned closer to William's ear. "There's a scary rat later on in the movie," she informed him, "but don't be scared, okay? Basil beats him in the end."

William smiled and leaned in close. "Thanks for the heads up," he whispered. "If it's too scary, I'll close my eyes."

This seemed to satisfy Elizabeth and she settled in closer to her father under his arm. Henry watched his friend for a long time, but eventually, he accepted that, somehow, William was right and there would be no transformation that night. And maybe it was kind of selfish, but Henry was thankful that he didn't have to spend his first night without Charlie without him.

Henry leaned his foot to the side until it knocked into William's. William locked eyes with him and, with a smirk, bumped him back.

* * *

A/N: Elizabeth is right; that final battle in The Great Mouse Detective is rough. Will might need to close his eyes.

Thank you so much for reading my little were-rabbit story! I hope you enjoyed it! And thank you so much for all your support. The reviews, the follows, the favs...they warm my purple heart. :*)

And thank you again to rebellovesrobots on Tumblr for letting me borrow her AU for this story. If you want more were-rabbit content, definitely check her out!


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